Happy Will Turner
by Anti Fluffy
Summary: No longer a oneshot! In order to save themselves from dancing the hangman's jig, Will and Norrington must find Jack Sparrow in return for their freedom. However, he is nowhere to be found...
1. Happy Will Turner

Here's a little oneshot I just typed up randomly the night I saw Dead Man's Chest. Meant to be funny, so I hope you'll laugh. It's also my first POTC fanfic, so I tried to get capture the character's personalities all right. I suppose writing it at eleven o' clock at night doesn't help at all, but whatever. Please, read and enjoy!

Chapter 1: Happy Will Turner

Will sighed happily as he strode down the winding streets. Peace had finally broken out after so many months of adventure; this was the first bit of spare time he'd had in ages. He was simply wandering with no destination, and it felt quite lovely indeed.

'Granted…' he thought, 'It's a bit quiet… Very quiet'. He paused and closed his eyes, letting the sea breeze run through his hair. Listening hard, he heard the waves lapping at the docks. Not another soul was out on the road; they were all inside their homes, for there were dark clouds on the horizon.

With a shake of his head, Will opened is eyes and continued his walk. 'My God, I'm bored.'

For the next several minutes, he strolled the roads of Port Royal, listening to the silence and thinking of his wife, Elizabeth, back at the governor's mansion. She and her father had wanted an evening together, so she had expertly convinced him that he was in dire need of a night out. Thinking back on the scene, he realized how easily she had been able to dupe him.

'Shame on me, then…' A small smile tugged at his lips. 'I can fight a horde of undead pirates or slimy crewmembers of Davy Jones, but in the face of my wife…'

Just as he started to chuckle, he heard loud shouts coming from the local tavern that broke the silence of the streets. Normally, he would have ignored them, but one shout in particular was familiar.

"Whaddaya say I take th' rum, an' leave you wiv th' girl, savvy?"

Very familiar, indeed.

Raising and eyebrow, Will sighed and reached for the door handle. "I'm going to regret this…" He entered the tavern, ducking immediately when Mr. Cotton's parrot swooped overhead.

"Take th' rum, take th' rum!" the bird squawked, perching itself on Will's head.

"By the powers…" Mr. Gibbs cried raising his tankard. "Look who it is! Will Turner, himself!" Several of the Black Pearl's crewmembers turned and shouted greetings, but quickly returned to their own raucous conversations, and soon the sound level once again became an incredible din.

"Get over here, lad, and take a seat with us!" Gibbs insisted, grabbing hold of Will's arm and dragging him to a bench. "We weren't expectin' t' see you this fine evening, were we, Jack?"

"I was," Jack said, leaning against a post and propping his feet on the table. "I always expect th' unexpected. That's why you should expect the unsuspecting person t' be unexpected. It's always expected."

After a moment of trying to sort through it, Gibbs laughed and raised his mug again. "Right you are, Jack. Hey!" he shouted at a passing waitress. "Get th' lad a drink, would ya!"

Will simply sat quietly, staring the two of them and marveling at the fact that they could have a conversation with him without him actually having to speak. "Amazing…" he muttered under his breath.

"What is?" Jack queried, sticking out a hand and catching a bottle of rum that had been knocked off a neighboring table from a pair of fellows arm-wrestling.

Will smiled wryly at him. "Nothing at all."

"Hm." After prying the cork out and taking a gulp, Jack stared hard at Will as the man started when an overflowing tankard was placed in front of him.

"What?" it was Will's turn to ask as he took an experimental sip of the drink.

"It seems to me…" Jack began slowly, speaking in his usual slurred tones, "that a fine, newly-wed gentleman such as yourself would hardly be spending his evening in th' local tavern… It leads me to wonderin', 'why isn't our dear William at home with his bonnie lass?'"

"Oh, uh…" Will cleared his throat. "He, that is, Mr. Swann, arrived this morning, and Elizabeth wished to spend an evening alone with him." He eyed Jack curiously. "It has been several weeks since the two have seen each other."

"Not a fight, then?" Jack queried further, sitting up and pulling his boots off the table.

Will shook his head and took another sip, deciding that he didn't mind the taste.

"Oh, bugger. There aren't any pretty women here to flirt with. I was rather hoping Miss Swann was free tonight." Jack frowned and gulped from his newly acquired bottle.

"Heh, a twisted mind, yours is, Jack," Gibbs chuckled, sliding onto the bench with two more bottles in his fists. "Where'd you get that rum? I was already getting some more for us!"

"Well, give it to Mr. Turner, then, unless I finish first." Jack waved the bottle away.

"No, thank you," replied Will, holding his hands up when Gibbs set the bottle in front of him. "I'm fine."

"Oh, come, come, come." Jack clucked his tongue. "You're nigh close t' becomin' a pirate, might as well go all th' way. Drink up, lad."

"What do you mean by that!" Will snapped, slamming his fist on the table. "I'm not close to becoming a pirate!"

Silence from the other two men met his outburst, until at last Gibbs turned away, trembling, while Jack leaned forward, putting his fingertips together. "Mr. Turner, there is a time and a place for you to spout your anger. However, it is not the time to do so when there is a parrot on your head, savvy?"

Flushing in embarrassment, Will slapped Cotton's parrot away. "Wind in th' sails!" it shrieked angrily as it flapped off.

"I'm not close to becoming a pirate…" Will quietly said again, his cheeks still stained with red.

"Indeed you are," Jack continued while Will took a large gulp from his tankard until the heat was gone from his cheeks. "Do you want to review th' list? It's a long one, and a growing one, t' be sure. You sprung a notorious pirate from jail; you took over a ship of the fleet; you sailed wiv a pirate crew; you stood between a pirate and th' noose, deliberately disobeying th' law; you were arrested by doing all those things and yet you still ran free, associating yourself once again wiv pirates… shall I go on? Those were only th' LEGAL things about you that prove you're turnin' into a pirate." He paused. "Or, illegal, I should say. And then there's your… how shall I put it… actions, perhaps?" Jack grinned, seeing Will's temper slowly rising.

"You loved seeing all th' gold th' crew of th' Pearl had stolen…" Jack commenced after a swallow of rum. "You were right at home on all th' pirate ships you've been on; from what I heard, you did a fine job of gambling on th' Flying Dutchman, and you—"

"Enough!" Will shouted, making Gibbs nearly leap out of his skin in surprise. "That doesn't make me a pirate! Besides, I'm a perfectly legal man now!"

"Ah, but dear William, here you are, associating wiv pirates in a tavern as we speak!" Jack was having the most fun teasing Will, as Will was giving him quite a show as he tried to control himself. He spotted Will's hand twitch and go to the hilt of his sword, but the man thought better of it and settled for draining his tankard dry instead.

"Nicely handled." Jack raised his bottle in a toast to Will. "I was only joking, lad."

"Oh, really? Joking, were you?" Will replied through gritted teeth, clenching the bottle neck and viciously pulling the cork out.

"Well…" Jack grinned, his gold tooth sparkling. "Only a little."

Gibbs laughed loudly and clapped Will on the back, making him splatter rum all over the table. "That's Jack, for ya! Here be to Jack!" He raised his tankard high, and then nudged Will to do the same. "Come on, boy! Raise it high!"

Grudgingly, with a glare at the smirking Jack, Will raised his tankard as well and drank.

"That's more like it…" Turning around, Jack shouted, "Where's th' music! Aren't there musicians in this bloody place!" A loud cheer of agreement arose from the men and women of the tavern, and soon there was a merry tune playing.

With a satisfied nod, Jack turned back around and settled himself against the post again. "Nice place," he commented, taking a gulp of rum. "I could get used to comin' here."

Will looked up from his drink, a horrified look on his face. "Oh no you don't, Jack. You're not staying here."

His mouth dropping open, Jack placed a hand over his heart, looking hurt. "Oh, Mr. Turner, you wound me."

"Now, now, boy," Gibbs cut in, putting an arm around Will's shoulders. "Cheer yourself up! You'll be spendin' th' whole evenin' with us, an' we don't want any mopers!" He shoved his face up close to Will's and whispered, "Do you know what we do to mopers?"

Judging from the maniacal grin on Gibbs' face, Will suspected whatever they did was fairly unpleasant. Against his wishes, he smiled falsely, sitting back and looking at the two. "I'm happy. See? I'm happy! I'm just Happy Will Turner!"

"Excellent, Happy Will Turner! Welcome to th' party!" The entire crew cheered when they heard that, and soon Happy Will Turner was dragged into the fray of singing and dancing while Jack and Gibbs watched, then winked at each other and toasted themselves.

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Three hours later, Happy Will Turner finally emerged from the mass of people. Actually, he was thrown to the ground next to Jack and Gibbs' table.

"Ah, there you are, lad! Enjoying yourself?" Gibbs reached down and pulled Will to his feet.

"Qu…quite…" Will said dazedly, groping for something sturdy to grab on to before he fell over again. After a couple tries, he managed to grasp the tabletop, and then he slowly sank onto the bench in relief. "It's rather hot in here, isn't it?" His face was flushed and he was blinking fuzzily at the two of them, trying to bring them into focus.

"Aye, it's a bit warm," Gibbs agreed. "But that's nothing a good rum won't fix, eh?"

Shaking his head, Will refused the proffered drink and prepared to stand again. "No, I need--hic-- to be going now. Elizabeth's waiting, I'm sure…"

"Hold it, mate!" Jack said quickly, leaping up and blocking Will's path. "It's pourin' buckets out there, and it's thundering like th' Kraken! You don't want to get your… uh, hair wet, do you?" He stared at Will's messy and disheveled locks, and then smiled sincerely.

"Aye, and the lightning is somethin' to be feared. You'd best stay with us, boy. Or should I say, Happy Will Turner?" Grinning in recognition of the nickname, Will consented and fell onto the bench again.

"Happy Will Turner…" he laughed, this time taking the bottle Gibbs pushed at him. "I'll never live that one down, will I?"

"Not for a long time, Happy Will Turner," Jack replied, shooing Cotton's parrot away from the table. "Bloody bird…" He paused when he saw Will drink straight from the bottle of rum, leaning far back on the bench.

"Ah, see, it warms my heart!" he said joyfully when Will swallowed and tried to smother a belch. "You're becoming more like a pirate every minute! It feels good, doesn't it?"

Will glared at the captain. "Don't start that again, Jack."

Raising his hands peacefully, Jack sat back and took a gulp of rum himself. "Whatever you say…. Happy Will Turner."

At the sound of the nickname, Will couldn't help but laugh. "I'm going to regret saying that for the rest of my life!" he chortled. "Well, enough of that. Come along, you two! You've been sitting here the entire time! Join in on the fun!" He stood unsteadily and headed into the crowd again.

Jack and Gibbs looked at each other, until finally Jack leaped to his feet and grabbed his bottle of rum. "He's right, you know. It's time for some merriment!"

"Aye-aye, cap'n!"

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"It looks like the storm is over, father," Elizabeth said, peering out the window. "It's not even raining anymore. I'm sure it's fine for you to return to your home now."

"All right then, my dear." Adjusting his wig, Weatherby Swann stood and went over to kiss his daughter good-bye.

"Are you sure you won't stay the night?" she asked politely, allowing her father to peck her on the cheek. "It's already so late."

"I would accept your kind offer, but I'm afraid I have some work to get done for tomorrow. I was planning on doing it earlier, but this unforeseen storm has pushed it off. I really must leave." As he donned his hat, he told her, "Be sure to give my regards to William, if you'd be so kind."

"Of course, father. Now go, if you must." After seeing her father to his carriage and waving good-bye, Elizabeth started to go back into the house, but a shouting from quite a ways down the road made her pause. Looking around and seeing no one watching

her, she smiled mischievously and set off down the puddle-pocked street, not bothering to lift her skirts to keep the mud from staining them.

I wonder where Will is… she thought as she walked. Had I known there was going to be a storm I wouldn't have pushed him out of the house like that.

The shouting grew much louder, and soon she made out a massive shape that was swaying back and forth across the road.

"We're on'y tryin' t' help ya, Happy Will!"

"Yeah! We're doin' ya a favor, takin' ya home!"

"Come on, Happy Will Turner!" she heard a familiar voice pleading. "I'll trade yer wife for th' last bottle o' rum, savvy?"

Captain Jack Sparrow…. Her brow furrowing in anger, she quickened her stride, fully prepared to slap the man across both cheeks if necessary.

"Absolu'ly not, Jack!" She spotted Will being half-carried down the road by the crew of the Pearl, all who were just as drunk as he appeared to be. "Th' rum's mine, an' 'Lizabeth--hic-- isn' yours t' bargain with! Happy Will Turner or not, you aren' gettin' this!" He raised the rum bottle above his head, out of Jack's reach.

"Captain Jack SPARROW!" Elizabeth screeched, standing in front of the crew with her hand on her hips and her eyes blazing furiously. "What in the devil's name is going on here!"

Everybody went dead silent, until Gibbs pushed Jack forward to explain.

"Well, uh… Evenin' love—" It was hard to finish his greeting with his cheek being struck. "…. Now that wasn' very nice…"

"What is going on here, Mr. Sparrow?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Captain Sparrow, if you don' mind, love."

Another slap. "What did you do to Will!"

"Me?" Jack swayed around to look at Will, who was peering blearily around himself, and then he turned back to Elizabeth. "I didn' do nothin'. It was Happy Will who did it to 'imself." Pausing at the look on her face, he thought it might be safe to add, "Well, I did pass th' rum a couple times, if that's what you're askin'."

"'S true," Will confirmed, raising his bottle to prove it. "Jack didn' do anything."

Glaring wrathfully at Jack, who was smiling innocently at her, Elizabeth said, "Come on, Will, let's go home and leave this rabble alone."

"Happy Will, if you wouldn' mind, Miss Swann," Gibbs spoke up.

Elizabeth stared at her husband. "Happy Will?"

Will nodded happily. "That's right. Happy Will Turner. 'Cuz I'm happy, get it?"

Frowning, she whirled around to face Jack, pointing a warning finger at him. "I swear, if you get my husband drunk again, I'll take that rum bottle and shove it up your—"

"I unnerstand," Jack said quickly. "No more rum from me for Happy Will. Got it."

"Good." Scowling, she went and took Will's hand and led him down the road, doing her best to ignore the, "Good-bye, Happy Will Turner!" that followed her husband.

"And you," she said irritably to Will, who was stumbling along beside her, "I'm never letting you leave by yourself again!"

"Now really, Elizabeth, wha' else was I to do? Did you really expect me to stand in th' rain fer five hours?"

Sighing and shaking her head, she said nothing more until they got back to the mansion and put Will to bed.

"Good night… Happy Will Turner," she said softly, kissing him on the forehead.

"….Good….night…."

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The next morning Will was awakened by Elizabeth, who was standing by the bedroom window and laughing.

"Oh, Elizabeth…" he groaned, covering his head with the pillow. "Please don't do that, my head is killing me."

"Quickly, Will, come and see this." She beckoned him to the window.

Sighing, Will slowly climbed out of bed and stumbled over to the window, wincing sharply from the light. Peering groggily outside, he had a clear view of the docks, and from there he could see, painted on the sails of the Black Pearl was, "Farewell, Happy Will Turner!".

"Oh, dear God…" He put his head in his hands and moaned. "Now the whole town knows… I'm never going to live this down. Never."

"Well, now you know what happens when you cross Jack Sparrow's path," Elizabeth said knowingly.

"Hmph." Will chuckled humorlessly. "Yes. You get a fight with the undead, a showdown with a Kraken, and a stupid nickname."

"Indeed."

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Well, there you have it. It's not very long, but I just felt like putting it out! Please review and let me know what you think!


	2. What Goes Around, Comes Around

Well, I had so much fun writing the first chapter that I decided to continue and turn that one-shot into a full story! So, to help with certain issues, I'm going to say this: the latest movie is hardly relevant. Jack was never eaten by a Kraken, Norrington became an admiral through hard work, not by dumping some beating heart on a desk, Elizabeth never kissed Jack, Norrington never knew he was arrested, and …. Well, I think that's it for now. Just bear that in mind. Now please, sit back, relax, and enjoy the latest update of…

Happy Will Turner

Chapter 2: What Goes Around, Comes Around

The walk to the blacksmith's shop the next morning was a hard one. In combination with his pounding head, the jeer's and sniggers from the townspeople added to the unpleasantness. He was forced to put up with obnoxiously cheerful waves, along with people calling out brightly, "Havin' a happy mornin', are ya?"

But the worst by far was when Admiral Norrington rode up to him, followed by a flank of soldiers. There was silence for a minute as Will attempted to sidestep the horse and continue on his way, but Norrington blocked his path.

"Excuse me, Mr. Norrington," Will said curtly, glaring pointedly at the horse and not at Norrington.

"That would be 'Admiral'," snapped Norrington in reply, jumping down to look Will in the eye. "It would do you good to pay more respect to your superiors."

"I seem to recall a time not so long ago when you were falling-down drunk and sleeping with pigs," Will reminded him, pleased to find Norrington's face growing red with anger. "I wouldn't call that being superior." It normally wasn't in his nature to be so rude, but Norrington had never been one of his favorite people.

"Well…" Norrington continued testily, "You were in a rather similar situation last night, were you not?" He smirked. "…Happy Will Turner?"

It was Will's turn to flush. "Y-you have no proof of where I was last night. And I was NOT sleeping with pigs!"

Knowing he had won the argument, the admiral brought out a pair of handcuffs and clapped them around Will's wrists. "I have sources that tell me where you were, Mr. Turner," he said, checking to make sure the bonds were tight enough. "And it is those same sources that have given me the reason for your arrest."

Will gaped at him. "Under what charges?!" he sputtered, flinching angrily when one of the soldiers reached by to remove the sword at his waist. "You don't have the right to—"

"Right? Mr. Turner, I am an admiral. There is no need to question my rights." Norrington stepped back to let another soldier check for weapons. "You are arrested under the charge of letting a well-known criminal and pirate escape from under your nose." He leaned closer to Will. "A certain… Jack Sparrow," he whispered, spitting the name like it was poison.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Will snapped in reply. "And that is NOT evidence enough to arrest me!"

"Weren't you listening?" Norrington snarled back. "I have sources! My watchmen saw you and the entire crew of the _Black Pearl_ staggering down the road. Those pirates deposited you with Elizabeth and then headed back to the docks. In fact, the Navy is blockading the port as we speak. Your piratical friends will be captured in minutes, and you will be joining them in a jail cell."

"I fail to see where I did anything against the law," Will said stubbornly, refusing to move when the soldiers attempted to usher him along. "Is it because I did not immediately inform the watchmen the moment I saw Jack? I hardly see that as grounds for arrest."

A thin smile tugged at Norrington's lips. "What you think matters little, Mr. Turner. As admiral, I have the power to do as I see fit. And I see your decision of spending a night drinking with a wanted criminal rather than turning him over as unlawful, immoral, and…" His face darkened as he glared at Will. "… It's the perfect grounds for my revenge. Now, follow these fine men to the jail, or I will make your sentence worse than it already is. Good day." Without another word, he climbed back on his horse and rode towards the docks to oversee the arrests of the _Pearl_'s crew.

Will glowered after him, but he had no other choice than to follow the soldiers. As he turned around to stare at the red coats in front of him, he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Elizabeth's going to be furious…

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Ignoring the book laying open on her lap, Elizabeth stared dazedly out the window. It was hard to find things to fill up her day while Will was at work.

"Mm?" Blinking when she saw Norrington ride past at a fast clip, she stood and peered further down the road. Towards the dock, she could see a flurry of soldiers. "I wonder what's going on?"

Setting her book aside, she stood and went into the foyer. However, the moment she reached the front door, it burst open, and none other than Jack Sparrow dashed inside.

"'Scuse me, love!" he said hurriedly, slamming the door shut behind himself and running to hide behind a large potted plant. "No time to explain! Our dear friend Norrington has just turned 'round and is heading for your front door, so if you don't mind—"

The loud chiming of the doorbell thundered through the house, cutting off Jack. Quick as a whip, he crouched behind the pot and whispered loudly to Elizabeth, "Don't let him know I'm here!"

Though slightly stunned and very confused by Jack's sudden appearance, Elizabeth retained her composure and calmly opened the door.

"Admiral Norrington," she said shortly as a greeting.

"Mrs. Turner," he replied, just as short. There was no need to act pleasant, for there was an open, mutual hatred between them.

"Is there something you require?" Elizabeth asked, refusing to invite him inside.

"No. I only came to inform you of your husband's arrest. We will contact you with more information later in the day."

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth thought she had simply misheard him.

With a faint smirk, Norrington tipped his had. "Good day, Mrs. Turner."

The moment the door closed, she whipped around and stalked over to the potted plant.

"Captain Jack Sparrow…" she said quietly. "Would you care to explain why my husband has been arrested?"

Jack peered up at her, trying to look as innocent as possible. "I swear, love, I haven't the faintest notion. Honestly!"

Frowning, she crossed her arms. "Jack, you have been the heart of our problems for the longest time. I have grown to assume that you will be the reason for a very long time to come, whether you have done anything intentionally or not. Now—why has Will been arrested?"

Jack stood and grinned at her. "Have I not helped rescue dear Happy William before? Did I not stay with the _Pearl_ when Davy Jones' beastie smashed it to pieces?"

"Only because I chained you there."

"Yes, but my point is, I HAVE gotten you out of said problems I put you into."

"Then get Will out of jail."

"Well, my dear Mrs. Turner…" he continued. "Quite unfortunately, I am unfortunate enough to be forever locked in here until, if fortune smiles upon us, I will be fortunate enough to have Lord Beckett lift the fortune from my head so I can go free."

Pausing a moment to work through what he said Elizabeth followed after him as he wandered into the parlor. "You mean you have a price for your capture?" she cried.

"Mm…" Jack said in acknowledgement. "Lord Beckett seems to feel that once I am captured, the threat of piracy is gone, and his lovely little trading company will be the dominant power in these waters. So, you get to enjoy my company for quite some time."

"Buy why hide here? Why hide right under their noses?"

"Well…" Jack bent down to look under the coffee table, for reasons unbeknownst to Elizabeth. "I know of very few people who can see under their own nose. It is a very tricky maneuver, to be sure." He grinned at her. "Savvy?"

"Oh… yes, I understand. But why my home, of all places? Admiral Norrington would easily suspect you of hiding here with me!"

"Admiral Norrington will discover that I disappeared around six o' clock this morning, minutes before the ship _Atlantica_ departed from the harbor. If he can put two and two together –hopefully—he will go out after her, nary suspecting that I would be here, enjoying the company of a lovely lady."

Elizabeth frowned skeptically at him. "What do you mean, you 'disappeared'?"

"So many questions…" Jack walked over to her and took up her hands. "You're not being a very good hostess, milady."

When Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed and dropped her hands. "When depositing Happy William off," he began, walking away, "I noticed two of Norrington's guards watching us. Knowing the consequences of that, I made myself conveniently scarce." He turned to face her.

"And now that you know every last detail of my escape, it is time for me to ask you a question."

"Very well. What is it?"

"I find it rather odd that while your darling Happy William is rotting away in some jail cell, you're far more interested in my being here. One would think your husband would be your priority." Jack said all of this lightly, but it was clear he was taunting Elizabeth. "Is he not?"

"O-of course he is!" she said. "I was just surprised from your sudden appearance, that's all."

"Well I'd be more surprised if I was told my husband had just been arrested. Er, my spouse."

Placing her hands on her hips, she snapped, "How dare you accuse me! I'm very worried about Will!"

Jack lifted his hands and backed off. "Of course, you're right. I completely believe you."

Calming a little, she replied, "Admiral Norrington said I would be given more information later today. I simply have to be patient until then."

"Right." It was quiet for a moment while Jack looked around, then he clapped his hands and said cheerfully, "So! Where will I be staying?"

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It was hard for Norrington to keep a stern face as he watched the pirates shuffling down the road, their chains and manacles clanking together. For so long he had been chasing them and now, at long last… It was all he could do to keep from whistling happily.

"Admiral Norrington, sir!" someone called to him from behind. Turning his horse around, he replied, "What is it, soldier?"

"I've got the report, sir."

"Fire away."

"We have searched the _Black Pearl_ and all her crewmembers are accounted for, save one."

Those two words made Norrington's blood run cold. Jerking his horse back around, he scanned the line of pirates. However, as his eyes flicked from one scruffy face to the next, his worst fears were realized when the features of the one man he wanted most desperately to capture were absent.

"Um…" Sounding slightly confused, the soldier jogged to get in front of the horse. "The missing man is—"

"—Jack Sparrow," Norrington finished for him, speaking through clenched teeth. "Damn that man! Send out a search party immediately; I want him in chains by sunset."

"Admiral Norrington!" A young boy ran up to him and bowed respectfully before continuing. "Lord Beckett requires your presence straight away."

Taking a deep breath, Norrington composed himself. "Carry on," he said to the soldier. "I shall make Lord Beckett privy to the situation." Without another word, he rode off.

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"Lord Beckett?" the steward called, knocking firmly on the door. "Admiral Norrington is here to see you, sir."

"Send him in."

Prompted with a nod from the steward, Norrington stepped into Lord Beckett's office.

"You wished to see me, my lord?"

"Yes." Though rather short, even shorter when he sat at his desk, Lord Beckett was an imposing figure. There was no question that utmost formality was required when in his presence. "I would like a report on the happenings for this morning's capture of the _Black Pearl_."

"Of course. Thanks to the actions of my two watchmen, we were able to catch the pirates at the dock off-guard. After that, it was quick work getting them all hand-cuffed."

"And everyone was captured?" Beckett asked. "No escapees? No stowaways?"

Thinking that he might possibly get away without mentioning the missing Jack Sparrow, he answered honestly. "No, my lord. None."

A touch of eagerness crept into Beckett's voice as he leaned forward. "And Jack Sparrow?" he asked. "Do you have him as well?"

Norrington's heart sunk even lower. Gulping, he replied, "No, sir. He wasn't among the crew. In fact, there was no sign of him on the ship."

"Hm." Beckett sat back and looked hard at his desk as he thought. Norrington stood nervously in front of him, feeling hot and anxious. Lord Beckett had a growing reputation of removing those who weren't useful to him, and since Norrington had worked so hard to get to the rank he was at, he dearly hoped that this was not going to end badly.

"Admiral Norrington…" Beckett said at last, "I have some papers for you. They are several months old, but they do bear my signature and seal, and thus their contents are still in effect. Mr. Mercer!"

Beckett's assistant Mr. Mercer entered the room and glanced at the papers hat were held out to him. With a nod, he walked over to Norrington, drawing out a pair of handcuffs.

"Mr. Norrington…" Beckett continued, barely containing a cruel smile, "You're under arrest."

Norrington stood silently as Mr. Mercer tightened the manacles around his wrists. The position he had worked so hard for, that he had suffered so much for, was going up in smoke, along with his authority, his dignity, and his pride. It was almost more than he could bear. In a stammering voice, he asked quietly, "What are the charges?"

"You let Jack Sparrow escape," Beckett replied harshly. "And this is not the first time. Remember your little escapade with the undead pirates?"

Met with a stony silence, Beckett motioned to Mr. Mercer. "Get him out of my sight."

The walk to the jail was silent. Mr. Mercer had never been the chatty type, and Norrington didn't trust himself to speak. He merely walked along, staring at the dusty road and doing his best to ignore the stares and the laughter of the townspeople.

Once inside the jail, his situation was made, if possible, even worse. All the arrests he had made just minutes earlier were thrown back in his face. For a minute, he crew of then _Black Pearl_ stared at him in surprise. And then they burst out laughing.

Trying to avoid looking at them, he allowed himself to be shoved into an almost vacant cell. However, in that cell was the last person he wanted to be stuck with.

"Mr. Turner," he said flatly as the cell door slammed shut.

Will looked genuinely surprised. "Mr. Norrington? What are you doing here?"

With a frown and a terrible glare, Norrington sat down in the opposite corner, refusing to answer. Will looked expectantly at him for a moment before speaking again.

"You didn't correct me. Is there a reason?"

"Oh, shut up."

For a while there was silence in the cell, with Norrington fuming by the wall. However, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a small movement. Glancing over, he saw Will covering his face, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh.

"What?!" Norrington snapped, slamming his fist on the floor. "Think it's funny, do you?!"

"Hey!" The warden smacked his sword against the bars of the cell. "Quiet in there."

Furiously, Norrington shut his mouth, though he flexed his sword hand anxiously as though he wanted nothing more than to run the warden through. Having to act like a beaten dog was almost more than his pride could take. Unable to do anything about it, he sat back and glared at the wall, doing his level best to ignore the other person in the cell.

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The next morning Will and Norrington were roughly awakened and then chained, with Norrington's hat and wig being taken in the process. They were then led back to Beckett's office where he was waiting for them.

"Good morning, Mr. Turner, Mr. Norrington," he said formally, setting a cup of tea back in its saucer as he stood. "I apologize for waking you at such an hour, but a matter of dire importance has come up." Walking around to the front of his desk and leaning against it, he tapped his fingers together in thought.

"Concerning Jack Sparrow…" he began. "Mr. Norrington here, through lack of ability, failed to capture Sparrow with the rest of the _Black Pearl_'s crew. So I myself went out with a search party, scouring Port Royal and every possible means of escape. After interrogating several crewmembers and discovering his time of disappearance, we checked the dock's records. The ship _Atlantica_ departed from shore minutes after Sparrow was lost—plenty of time for him to escape." This made Will grin wryly, but he kept silent.

Beckett began to slowly circle the pair. "In order to rid the world of piracy, Jack Sparrow needs to be captured. And since he has slipped through the East India Trading Company's fingers so many times, we cannot catch him. You two, however…" He looked sharply at them.

"You can get close to Jack. You can keep him under watch without him suspecting. You can capture him."

"So I am to be your errand-boy once again?"

"Weigh your options, Mr. Turner. I trust you'll make a wise decision."

"And what of me?" Norrington said suddenly. "If I go around the world chasing a man AGAIN, there had better be a reason for it."

Beckett turned his attention to Norrington. "How does a full pardon sound? With a partial restoration of your rank? And you, Mr. Turner…" His gaze switched over. "A full pardon and a full pardon for any arrests made in the future. A kind of diplomatic immunity, if you will."

Will considered the option. "Diplomatic immunity?" he asked. "Meaning, nobody will be able to arrest me again? For any reason?"

Beckett smirked. "Any reason at all."

After a moment of thought, Will decided. "I want two immunities. One for Elizabeth and one for myself, along with a full pardon for my current arrest. Swear to those, and I will go search for Jack."

With a small frown, Beckett nodded shortly. "Agreed. Mr. Norrington? Are your terms acceptable?"

"I don't think so."

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What is it that you want? Full restoration of your rank? A small fortune?"

Norrington shook his head slightly. "Not at all. I would like immunity and a pardon." He ignored Will's questioning glance.

After measuring him up, Beckett sighed. "I suppose that could be arranged."

"Then I will do it."

"Excellent. Mr. Mercer!" When his assistant entered the room, he continued. "Mr. Mercer here will be accompanying you on your journey. He will be making sure you stay on course. You will begin by following the _Atlantica_ to her destination; if Sparrow is not found, then you will follow any leads you have. Understood?"

Both men nodded.

"Now, to prevent this from going on for forever, you have a limited amount of time." He stared hard at them. "Two years. If you are unable to capture Sparrow in two years time, your pardons and immunities will be void." He sat down behind his desk. "Your transport will leave later today. You will be sent for when it is time."

"What of Elizabeth?" Will demanded as a pair of soldiers started to usher them out of the room. "When will I be able to see her?!"

"You won't. If word of this gets out, the influence and respect of the East India Trading Company will diminish. Therefore, no one can be told of this. Not even your wife."

"What?!!" His splutters faded away as he was dragged out the door by the soldiers.

Once they were gone, Mr. Mercer stepped forward. "Sir? Am I to spend two years with them?" His distaste was evident.

"I'm trusting you to keep them on course. For if they don't succeed… Well, Jack Sparrow could potentially be then end of the East India Trading Company."

"I understand, sir."

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"Something's wrong…" Elizabeth said anxiously as she paced around the parlor. "Admiral Norrington said more information was to have come yesterday."

"I wouldn't trust an admiral, love," Jack replied knowingly. "The only way they can reach that rank is through trickery, deceit, lies, and other immoral and dishonest ways."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and stalked to the window. "You're not helping at all, Jack."

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Jack immediately ran upstairs, hovering nearby so he could hear the conversation and be ready to run, if need be.

Once she knew he was out of sight, Elizabeth answered the door and was relieved to see a soldier standing there. "Ah, are you here to bring me up to date on my husband's arrest?"

"I am here to deliver a letter from Lord Beckett," he replied brusquely. After passing on the letter, he turned on his heel and marched off.

Shutting the door behind herself, Elizabeth quickly broke the seal and scanned the note as Jack tentatively descended the stairs.

"Beckett…" he muttered distastefully. "What does he want?"

Elizabeth gasped. "'In place of serving their sentences in prison'," she read aloud, "'Mr. Turner and Mr. Norrington have left on a mission for the East India Trading Company. They will be gone for an unknown length of time.' Oh my God! They didn't even let me say goodbye to him? Nor did they mention why Will was arrested in the first place!!"

"Oh, come come, Lizzie," Jack said airily. "This is Happy William you're talking about. He was probably arrested for tripping over a cat, or something stupid like that. Nothing to be concerned about."

"All right, but I now have no idea where Will is! That hardly helps my peace of mind."

Jack took her hands in his. "I told you, darling. There's nothing to be concerned about. Beckett, however bloody annoying he is, would not send a British subject to his death. I think."

With a sigh, Elizabeth folded up the letter and took a deep breath. She smiled weakly at Jack. "Thank you. You're right. I'm sure Will will be home in no time. He's probably just as unhappy with the arrangement as I am."

"Quite. Now, did my ears deceive me, or did you say that dear Norrington has been arrested?"

"The letter does say that, doesn't it?"

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

"Me neither."

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There you have it. Chapter 2. I do have the rest of the story planned out, just not written. ;

Please, review and tell me what you think!


	3. The Hunt Begins

Well, Happy Will Turner is back once again in chapter 3! Thanks so much to CaptainMarauderChick, who was the only person to review and is well-loved because of it. She will receive a visit from Captain Jack Sparrow, free of charge. And now on with….

Happy Will Turner

Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins

Just before night fell, the _Lady Washington_ departed from Port Royal, following the rail of the _Atlantica_. They were heading north to the port city Savannah in the Georgia colony. Mr. Mercer had tried explaining the benefits the Georgia colony gave to the East India Trading Company, but Will seemed distracted from the conversation.

Begging off from an offer to be told the entire list of products created in the colony, Will quickly stepped out of the room and shut the door on Mr. Mercer, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. He was in no mood to talk business. Not with his wife back in Port Royal, waiting for him to come home.

_Elizabeth…_ As he walked through the silent bowels of the ship, he longed to see her. It had only been two days since he had seen her last, and already his heart was aching. As his thoughts drifted back to two days ago when he was leaving for work, he could almost hear the last words they had said to each other…

_"Now Will, since you're feeling sick today, don't push yourself too hard, all right? Banging away with a hammer won't make your head feel any better."_

_With a tender smile, he replied, "Don't worry. I'll take things slow." Then, after a kiss goodbye, he left._

Now, as he opened the door to his cabin, he smiled gently at the thought of that exchange. He loved the little things she said that were so endearing.

"What are YOU so happy about?" Mr. Norrington said sourly, making Will jump in surprise.

"M-Mr. Norrington…" Will said, blinking after being shaken out of his thoughts. "What are you doing in here? I thought his was my room."

"It IS your room," Norrington snapped in reply. "However, this ship is so bloody small that there wasn't enough room for me in the bunkers. So now I'm stuck here with you."

Slightly insulted, Will snapped the door shut behind himself. "There's no need to be rude," he said quietly, clearly trying to hold his tongue. "We'll only be in here a short while. Just until we catch Jack in Savannah."

Norrington scoffed and wandered over to the window, pulling a bottle out of his pocket in the process. "How naïve…"

"What?"

Smiling haughtily at Will, Norrington pulled the cork out of his bottle. "Sparrow won't be at Savannah," he said with a chilling certainty. "Nor will he be on the _Atlantica_, or any other ships in the harbor!"

Slightly concerned but not daring to believe him, Will replied, "Is that so? And how do you know this?"

"I chased that man for almost a year, Mr. Turner. I know every trick he pulls; I know every maneuver he will try." Gesturing out the window, he said, "More likely than not, Sparrow will jump ship halfway to Savannah and head off to God-knows-where while we're fannying about in the Georgia colony. We'll never catch him." After a gulp of rum, he continued. "So no, Mr. Turner, we will not be together in here for a 'short while'. We will be in here for a very long while. So now you have THAT to look forward to."

As much as Will didn't want to admit it, Norrington was right. Jack probably would jump the _Atlantica_ at any given moment, leaving them to follow a fake trail while he got away.

"And the worst part is…" Norrington continued, "Is that we have no other choice than to continue on to Savannah! Think about it: we either follow a trail that we know is false or we start from nothing. So the only reason we go to Savannah is to see if there are any new leads! Bally waste of time, in my opinion."

Seeing the look of utter horror on Will's face, Norrington grinned, seemingly finding a kind of perverse pleasure from Will's suffering.

"And just think!" he went on, taking a step towards Will. "Imagine how this will continue. Let's say we get lucky enough to find some sort of lead on Jack's whereabouts. Supposing he's in, say, India. Well, where in India? We don't know. So you have to scour the coast of the entire continent of India, checking every single port city trying to find one single man. And halfway through this search you discover that he is no longer in India, but has instead moved on to Madagascar or some outrageously silly country like that. So you sail all the way out to bloody Madagascar and start the search over again—are you beginning to see a pattern? Now imagine doing that for a year. It's enough to make a man mad, I tell you."

"Two years," Will said softly, staring at the floor.

"What?"

"Beckett gave us two years to find Jack, not one."

"Oh, bloody hell." He took another gulp of rum. "This whole thing's pointless."

After a long moment of silence between the two, Will spoke up. "Well, I won't give up. Jack always makes his presence known, wherever he is. It shouldn't be hard to get a lead on him."

"Right Good luck with that."

Will glared at him. "I don't know about you, Mr. Norrington, but I don't particularly fancy facing the gallows when we return to Port Royal! So in order to keep that from happening, I believe we are going to find Jack!"

With a clearly disbelieving smile, Norrington shook his head and said nothing. He simply went over and unrolled a cot that had been placed on the floor.

"What are you doing? There's a bed right there," Will said, pointing at the bed in the corner as Norrington lay down on the cot.

"Obviously, that is where you will be sleeping." Norrington sounded very annoyed. "Now please, either lie down and shut up or go away."

A bit disgruntled, Will shut his mouth and sat down on the bed, taking off his boots before stretching out on the mattress. Silence fell between them. Only the sound of rum sloshing against glass was heard every time Norrington took a drink.

Finally, without moving, Will said into the darkness, "Mr. Norrington?"

"What is it now??"

"In Beckett's office, when you were offered the restoration of your rank…" He looked over at Norrington. "…Why didn't you take it?"

"…That's not really your business, Mr. Turner."

"I just find it odd," Will continued, ignoring Norrington's comment, "that you, who worked so hard to become Commodore, you, who betrayed your shipmates to gain the rank of Admiral, would turn down such an offer. Also, when you held those positions, you loved the authority and power they gave you. So why did you not accept?"

"BECAUSE, Mr. Turner." Norrington sat up on his elbows so he could glare at Will. "There is no point to it anymore! I have been from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in my line of wok. I worked like a dog to gain the rank of Commodore. But I held it for only an oh-so-short amount of time before jack Sparrow knocked the ladder of success out from under my feet. I hit rock-bottom after that and found myself drunk in Tortuga. Then, after a string of fortuitous events, I was able to get on Beckett's good side and be promoted to Admiral Norrington of His Majesty's Royal Navy." This was said with some contempt in his voice, Will noticed.

"But now, as you can see, I am clearly incapable of holding power for long periods of time, so am once again with nothing. Rather than accepting Lord Beckett's offer, I figured I would just save time and not bother with the whole 'rank' process. It would be easier to stay low than to climb and fall again."

"You're just giving up, then?"

He heard a deep sight, and then a rustling as Norrington rolled over. "Like I said, Mr. Turner… That's none of your business."

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Mr. Mercer, Will, and the crew of the _Lady Washington_ soon discovered that despite his drunkenness, Norrington had been right in his prediction. Upon reaching Savannah they had immediately searched the _Atlantica_ and found nothing but proof of Jack's disappearance. A missing longboat that was unexplainable by the _Atlantica_'s captain was all they needed.

"Damn him!" Will said furiously as he stomped down the gangplank, followed by Mr. Mercer and Mr. Norrington.

"What are you so mad about? You knew he wasn't going to be there."

"We still needed to check, Mr. Norrington," Mr. Mercer broke in sternly. "Only in being thorough, will we find Jack Sparrow." Pausing at the bottom of the gangplank and looking at the two of them, he brusquely gave out orders.

"Mr. Turner, Mr. Norrington, it will be up to the two of you to search the town. Find any leads you can on Sparrow's whereabouts, then report back to the _Lady Washington_ by sunset. I and the crew will be handling the purchase of provisions for the next stage in our search. Now off you go." Then he turned on his heel and set off to the _Lady Washington_.

"Well," Norrington said once Mercer was gone, "Have fun with your fruitless search." He smiled dryly at Will before wandering down the road.

"Wait! What are you doing? Where are you going to search?" Will called after him.

"Why, the local tavern, of course! Best place to find information, don't you agree?" With an annoyingly superior grin, he left Will behind to do all the searching alone.

Frustrated but refusing to give up, Will took a deep breath to calm himself. He had found Jack before, and he would find Jack again.

He began his search with a spectacularly hairy man that was scraping the barnacles off a ship.

"Jack Sparrow?" the man repeated, popping off another barnacle. "Heard he was up in Canadia, shootin' geese fer the missus."

Next was a washerwoman, dumping her dirty dishwater in the street.

"Jack Sparrow? Ooo, that naughty rogue! He's probably out in Zanzibar, doing dirty things with the Zanzirbarbarian ladies!"

"He's in Russia, mate. Robbin' the czar blind, I'm sure."

"France. Loves their singing voices, he does! Can't get enough o' it!"

"Geisha. That's the only reason he goes to Japan; for them geisha girls!"

"Definitely Greenland. Heard he had some treasure buried up there."

"Greece, my friend. I'm sure of it. He always loved the taste of Grecian wine, he did!"

By the time the sun was setting Will had asked dozens of different people, and had received dozens of different answers. He had heard everything from Africa ("He's determined to get a zebra on his ship I'm tellin' ya!"), to Northern Canadia ("Wants to buy one o' them hundreds o' islands, I reckon,"). In short, he had no information at all. Tired and irritated, he slowly made his way to the docks.

As he neared, he heard someone shouting, so he quickened his pace to see what was going on. Rounding a corner, he spotted Norrington a few paces ahead, stumbling about and doing quite a lot of shouting. He appeared to be ordering around a large black man with dreadlocks and another equally large white man with a shock of curly hair, both of whom were carrying a barrel.

"The _Lady Washington_!" Norrington yelled angrily, pointing at a ship two spaces to the left of the _Lady Washington_. "Put 'em on the _Lady Washington_!! I'm not paying you by the hour, gents!"

Attempting to ward off a fight, Will quickly stepped forward and tapped the curly-haired one on the shoulder. "That ship," he said quietly, pointing at the correct one.

"Can we punch 'im once we're finished?" the black man asked, glaring down at Norrington who had paused from his shouting only to take a drink from his bottle.

"I'm afraid not," Will replied. "However, I'm sure he'll be unconscious in a few moments anyway, so there's no need to worry."

"Hmmph…" Grumbling, the two men headed towards the proper boat while Will went over to Norrington.

"Well?" Will asked expectantly. "Did you find out anything?" Noticing the confused expression on Norrington's face, he added, "About Jack?"

For a moment Norrington stared fuzzily at him, and then he turned to watch the two men walk up the _Lady Washington_'s gangplank. "Where are they takin' my rum?" he demanded.

"Onto the _Lady Washington_, like you told them to," Will replied, sighing in exasperation. "Now what about Jack?!"

"They better be takin' it on there!" Norrington barreled on angrily. "That cost too much to lose, because of those bloody East India Trading Company taxes! An' it's like that everywhere nowadays! The only place where you can buy stuff for the price it's actually worth is Tortuga! But who'd want to go to a stupid place where only pirates, thieves, cutthroats, rogues, scoundrels, and God-awful people like Jack Sparrow loiter, I ask you?!"

Will stared at Norrington and, despite his general feelings of hatred towards the man, he felt as though he could almost like him.

"Mr. Norrington, that's brilliant. Tortuga!"

"Who?" Norrington asked stupidly, pausing with the bottle halfway to his mouth.

"Oh, never mind."

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The city lights of Savannah slowly faded into the background as the _Lady Washington_ left port that very evening, eager to be on the way to her next destination. Mr. Mercer, though skeptical of the source of information, had agreed that Tortuga was the best place to go. So, once Will had provided the navigator with the bearings, he returned to his and Norrington's quarters. He headed straight for the small desk and sat down, pulling a quill, inkpot, and piece of paper towards him, and then he began to write.

"_My dearest Elizabeth_," his letter began. "_I have been away for only a few days, and yet it feels like the longest of times._"

It was at this point that the door was flung open and Norrington stumbled in, grabbing hold of the desk to stay upright. He tried to take a drink from his bottle but, upon discovering that it was empty, lost interest in it and stared at Will's letter instead.

"'The longest of times'…" he read slowly, squinting to bring the letter into focus. "Oh, definitely. Very long. Ah, I want some more rum." And then he staggered out, leaving Will slightly annoyed. With a shake of his head, he continued on with his letter.

"_I'm afraid I cannot divulge the nature of my journey, but with any luck, I will be home within the next couple months to see your beautiful face. If only it were sooner._

_My traveling companions leave something to be desired, which leaves me longing for your companionship all the more. Mr. Mercer's drivel of business reminds me only of your words of love, while Mr. Norrington's constant drunkenness reminds of… Well, it reminds me of your sobriety, which is so pleasant to be around._

_So, in my frequent moments of boredom, I simply conjure up an image of you and wile away the hours in want of your presence. This longing only fuels my fervor to complete the task the East India Trading Co. has assigned to me in due hast, so I may return home as rapidly as possible._

_I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. Please do not worry about me. Beside daily bouts of boredom, I am quite well. I will write again soon to inform you of our progress._"

Once again, Will was interrupted when Norrington reeled into their quarters, this time with a freshly filled rum bottle.

"Still writin'?" he slurred, peering over Will's shoulder in the most irritating fashion. "Let's see it then."

"No!" Will protested, trying to push Norrington away. "You have no right to read my private letters!"

"Why do I need th' 'right' to do something?" Norrington retorted, snatching the letter out from under Will's elbow. "Now then. 'My dearest Elizabeth'. Ooh, lovely start…"

"Excuse me! Have you not listened to anything I said?"

"Not at all." He swayed unsteadily, which conveniently helped him evade Will's hands as they tried to grab for the letter. "Blah, blah, blah… Ah! '…I simply conjure up an image of you and wile away the hours in want of your presence.' Oh, dear God, it's sickening." Norrington tossed the letter back at Will in disgust.

"Showerin' that bloody woman with drivel like that. She doesn't deserve it."

Will, growing red in the face, stood up slowly, facing the drunken Norrington with his hands balled into fists. "You will NOT talk about Elizabeth that way," he said quietly.

Norrington laughed aloud mirthlessly. "You can't deny it, my dear Mr. Turner! That wife of yours isn't the best one! She's jumped from one man to the next so fast—"

"Mr. Norrington, if you say one more word…"

"Hell, I bet you're a thing of the past by now!" He grinned widely as an idea came to him. "Ya know what? I bet that at this very moment, Jack Sparrow and your dear Elizabeth are shaggin' each other like a –"

A solid punch in the jaw was all it took for Norrington to drop to the floor, unconscious. Sitting back down, Will calmly picked up the pen and finished his letter.

"_Love, Will_".

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Well, there you have it. Chapter 3. Seems like the trip has started off well, ne? It can only get better from here, so tune in next time for…. CHAPTER 4!!!

Please, review and tell me what you thought!


	4. Of Taverns and Troubles

Greetings, dear reader. Now, try not to get overexcited. Try not to hyperventilate. Try not to throw yourself screaming off the top of a tall building out of pure ecstasy. But yes, the fourth installment of Happy Will Turner has arrived. The slow update was due to an entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances, including illness, weather, and work. Much apologies.

This stage of the HWT saga takes our heroes to the famous pirate port of Tortuga, where they have some hope of finding dear old Jack. So please, read on, and enjoy!

Happy Will Turner

Chapter 4: Of Taverns and Troubles

"Mr. Mercer," Will said as he and Norrington were about to sail into the port at Tortuga. "Do you promise that this letter will find its way to Elizabeth?" He held it up, just out of Mr. Mercer's reach.

"Yes, Mr. Turner!" Mercer replied in exasperation. "I will have to read it to make sure you aren't giving away any details of this voyage, but once it has been checked, it will be delivered. I promise."

Quite reluctantly, Will handed over the letter. It was obvious that he didn't trust Mr. Mercer, nor did he want him reading his personal letter, but the only way of communicating with Elizabeth was through him.

Abruptly turning, Will called out, "Come along, Mr. Norrington. Into the longboat."

"I don't understand," Norrington said as he approached the two, "why we need to use a longboat at all? Why don't we just make port in Tortuga rather than docking out here on the edge of the island?"

"Because the East India Trading Company is not well-liked on this island," Mr. Mercer informed him. "We are entirely unwelcome here. If we are discovered there is a very likely possibility that this ship will be sunk on sight. Thus, the longboat."

"Which is leaving now, with or without you, Mr. Norrington," Will snapped impatiently from the railing.

"All right, all right…"

The ride over was silent. Will was glaring at Norrington for the entirety of it, still sore about the night three weeks prior. Norrington couldn't recall what he had done when he had awoken the next morning with a bruised jaw and an icy silence from Will, but he played along with it. Sword fights had almost broken out between the two en route to Tortuga, although now it had cooled into snide comments and open hatred of the other.

"Now…" Will began as they tied the longboat off at the dock. "Suppose this time you actually attempt to find Jack?"

"What do you—" Norrington had started to reply angrily, but he suddenly stopped. Will glanced at him to see why.

"What?" He followed Norrington's gaze to a herd of pigs being chased by a drunken sailor who was cackling in delight at their frightened squeals. "The pigs?" He looked once again at Norrington and was surprised to find the man reaching jerkily for his pistol, his face contorted into an expression of pure hatred.

"Damn pigs…" he growled, nervously watching them trundle away. "I hate them! They foul the air with that disgusting stench; they make the most horrific noises and it pains the eyes to even look at those fat bastards! Why do we have them at all?! For food? Who'd want to eat something that's been rolling in mud and filth all its life?! Not me, I can assure you! No, pigs are the greediest, foulest, most pitiful and disgusting swine that have ever walked this earth!!"

Will looked at him silently after his outburst, an expression not unlike contempt creeping across his face. "We're splitting up. Meet me at the longboat by dawn," was all he said before going off.

Norrington stood still for a moment, embarrassed. He truly did despise pigs, but he had never voiced it until now, for the simple reason that they reminded him so much of the lowest point in his life. And now that he was back in an extremely similar situation, the mere sight of the swine made him quite irritated.

With a shake of his head, he exhaled slowly, calming himself. Looking around, he spotted a blond woman with a lot of makeup wearing a green dress. Slightly interested, he made his way towards her. "I might as well get started."

The woman paused in her conversation with a dark-haired friend when she saw Norrington approach.

"Evening, ladies," he said in greeting, nodding at the two of them. They both studied him with a look of contempt, much like the one Will had given him but a few moments earlier, but they said nothing. Ignoring the stares, Norrington continued.

"Have either of you seen a certain Jack Sparrow in these whereabouts?"

"Jack Sparrow?" the dark-haired one repeated. She turned to the blonde. "After you, Giselle."

"Thank you." Turning back to a curious Norrington, Giselle lifted her hand and smacked him sharply across the face. Her friend followed suit, and the two then walked away, leaving Norrington stand there, motionless.

"I don't think I deserved that," he muttered, putting his hand up to his throbbing cheek. With a sigh and a shrug, he slipped into the nearest tavern for a drink, thinking he would wait a bit before asking anyone else.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Will breathed a sigh of relief as he left Norrington; the man always made him tense with anger, so it felt nice to be able to relax for a moment. He still had yet to forgive him for making such strong remarks about Elizabeth, particularly with Will being so sore about Jack.

Oh yes, Jack. That reminded him of the task he was supposed to be doing.

"You, sailor," he said, catching hold of a passerby. "Have you heard any recent news of Jack Sparrow or his whereabouts?"

"Look up in the trees, mate!" the man cackled drunkenly in reply.

Without another word, Will released his grip on the man and moved along, pausing when he spotted Norrington across the road getting slapped by Giselle, and then Scarlett. He winced in sympathy, recalling the sting of Giselle's palm on his cheek. "I supposed every man who has known Jack has been slapped by her at one point."

"Oh, aye…" a hoarse voice replied. "That Jack Sparrow is quite a character, 'e is."

Will glanced sharply around, trying to find the source of the voice. He found it in an old seaman who was sitting in a puddle of mud and leaning against a stack of barrels nearby.

"You know Jack Sparrow?" Will asked, crouching down next to the man.

"Is there a soul who doesn't?" the man chortled in reply. "'E's famous in these parts. If yer lookin' for 'im, you came to th' right place."

"Well, where is he? Is he here?"

The old man shook his withered head. "Go to the Unfaithful Bride," he said mysteriously. "Ask around there. See what ya get."

Will was skeptical, but he hardly had any choice. With no other leads, this was his best bet. Tossing a coin into the man's hand in thanks, he stood and strode off, looking for the Unfaithful Bride.

He came upon it after only a few minutes searching. It was small, wedged between a brothel and a pigpen, but the noise exuding from it was tremendous. It was clearly a very popular tavern, and thus a likely spot for Jack to be found. Will wasted no time getting inside.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Half a bottle and half a dozen slaps later, Norrington stumbled out of the tavern, rubbing his throbbing cheek. "Jack certainly isn't well-liked by the ladies around here…" he grumbled. "Stupid git."

Sighing, he wandered off down the road, trying to ignore the pain. However, he was only able to go a few steps before a woman blocked his path. A bit annoyed, he glanced up to snap angrily at her, but paused in surprise, for there were two parakeets sitting on each of her shoulders.

"You look lost…" she purred, patting her thick, dark curls. "Need any help?"

"U-uh… Well, I…um…" He was quite distracted by the four birds, and the fact that her dress had been tailored for someone two sizes smaller than her.

"Yes…?" she prompted, fluttering her thick lashes at him.

"Um… Your sparrows…"

"Oh, yes. You mean my parakeets. Lovely, aren't they?" She rubbed the head of one, which chirped brightly in reply.

"No, I mean your sparrows—Jack! Jack Sparrow, sorry." Norrington shook his head. Her dress was quite distracting.

"Jack Sparrow?" Her tone was decidedly less seductive.

"Uh, yes, Jack Sparrow. Do you know where he is?"

"No," she replied flatly. "And I had hoped never to be reminded of him again. So since you brought it up…"

A few seconds later after a new handprint had embedded itself in his cheek, Norrington marveled at the fact that he had been slapped nine times and had yet to see one coming.

"Um… I take it you don't know, then?" His only reply was one of the parakeets flying up and using his hat as a bulls-eye before all the birds and their owner left in a huff.

"I guess not…" he sighed. "Damn it, this is getting old."

"You look like you could use a drink," a man's falsetto called out to him sweetly. Norrington turned to look at the speaker, doing his best not to grimace, for the speaker was a hairy, burly man in a woman's dress. Lipstick was smeared on his face and a bonnet was clamped down over his unruly hair while he spun a dirty parasol over his shoulder.

"U-um, I've already got one, thanks," Norrington replied weakly, raising his bottle.

"Boring old rum, is that it?" the man squeaked in reply. "Well, why not try a Tortuga Sampler—a drink for every palate!!"

The man was obviously scripted, but Norrington was mildly interested in the product he was trying to sell. Skeptically, he moved nearer to the crossdresser.

"What exactly is a Tortuga Sampler?" he asked, eyeing the crate the seller had on the ground.

"I'm so happy you asked! A Tortuga Sampler is an ordinary crate like this—" he gestured at the crate by his feet, "—that is filled with a wide variety of the finest drinks Tortuga can offer! Smooth French bourbons, spiced Spanish rum, a fine German beer, and a whiskey that packs quite a punch, if I do say so myself! Hoo hoo hoo hoo!" His laugh sent shivers up Norrington's spine. "You never know what you might get in a Tortuga Sampler!"

Norrington took a gulp of rum as he considered. He looked at the sample crate, and then at the seller, then shivered and quickly looked away.

"How many of these can you have ready by dawn?"

A wide grin split the seller's face, displaying a mouthful of broken, filthy teeth. "I don't know, good sir. How many did you have in mind?"

Norrington pulled out a bag of coins and dropped it on the ground in front of the seller. "I want as many as that can get me. And I want fine quality, too. Not some weak, watered down grog, got it?"

The man practically squealed in delight. "Certainly, sir, certainly!"

"Right. Drop it off in the longboat at the docks by dawn." He turned to walk away, but paused and looked at the seller again.

"You wouldn't happen to know where a certain Jack Sparrow is, would you?"

As he looked back on this moment, Norrington realized that he preferred being hit by a man in women's clothing than an actual woman. For when a woman smacked him on the cheek, not only did it leave a throbbing red handprint, but also four stinging welts where her fingernails raked his skin. However, when the seller smacked him, it merely felt as though a cannonball had been smashed into his cheek.

As he dropped to the ground, the seller stood over him with a terrible scowl on his face.

"You're lucky that's all you go," he growled, spitting on the ground. "Mentioning Jack Sparrow's name like that… Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do!"

Norrington lay still on the ground. Tired of finding himself flat on his back with his cheek on fire, he gulped down the rest of his rum to console himself. After a few minutes, he carefully climbed to his feet and looked round for the nearest tavern. It was time for a break

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Will struggled furiously as the group of angry drunken sailors grabbed him by the ankles and arms and hefted him towards the door. And once he realized what they intended to do, he redoubled his efforts of escape. However, try as he might, he still found himself flying through the air and splashing into the pigpen, gaining a nice coat of mud on his clothes.

"That'll teach you to ask fer Jack Sparrow innere!!" the sailors shouted angrily as they crammed back into the tavern.

Will slowly sat up and shook the excess mud off himself, seething. He was positively livid; never before had he been treated so disgracefully. And the fact that Jack Sparrow was nowhere to be found added insult to injury. Spitting out a mouthful of mud, he stomped off to find the old man who had directed him to the Unfaithful Bride in the first place.

By the time he came upon the old man, he mud had dried on his clothes and face and he had to crack it before he could speak properly.

"You…" he growled, brushing some mud flakes off his face. "You sent me to the wrong tavern!! There was nothing to be had of Jack Sparrow in there!!"

"Really?" The old man sounded genuinely surprised. "But I was sure that was the place…" As he faded off into thought, Will thrust his hand out.

"Give me my coin back. I won't let you keep it for useless information."

"Hang on!" the man said in annoyance, placing his hand over the pocket that the coin resided in. "Give me a moment. I may have given you the name of the wrong bar."

"'May have'?!" Will repeated incredulously. "You did!"

"Ah yes, o' course!" the old man said suddenly, slapping his knee. "It wasn't the Unfaithful Bride, it was the Midnight Ride! Oh, how silly of me." He smiled nervously at Will, who was glaring down at him. "The Midnight Ride is the best place to find information about Jack Sparrow," he explained. "The Unfaithful Bride is the best place to start a fight over Jack. I get the two mixed up. Can you blame me?"

Wiping off more mud, Will sighed. "You'd better be telling the truth this time. I'm in no mood to go wandering all over Tortuga again just to get thrown into a mud puddle."

"I'm tellin' ya the truth! Look here." The old man sat up straighter and placed his hand over his heart. "I swear, on pain of death, that if the Midnight Ride is not the correct tavern, you will get yer coin back."

"Hmmph." Will snorted in disbelief, but he stalked off to find the Midnight Ride.

It wasn't very far down the road and was situated between a brothel and a pigpen, the same as the Unfaithful Bride. However, the Midnight Ride was much quieter. Glad for a more peaceful atmosphere, Will entered and walked up to the bar.

"I'd like some information," he said in a hushed voice to the bartender. "About Jack Sparrow." He dropped a coin on the counter.

Snatching the change away, the bartender nodded to a man who was practicing his aim by shooting empty bottles off a table. "There's the man to talk to."

Waiting between shots, Will stepped over to the man and stood patiently until the man shattered the last bottle and glanced over at him. "What yer want?" he growled, shifting his pistol so that it was pointing at Will.

"I need to know where Jack Sparrow is," Will replied calmly, though he kept his hand close to his sword.

"Jack Sparrow, eh?" With a devious grin, he holstered his pistol. "He ain't been here in months. Clever git prolly got 'imself stuck on some island again."

Though quite disappointed upon hearing that Jack wasn't in Tortuga at all, Will pressed on. "Then how about where he was last seen?"

The man frowned in thought. "Tripoli, last I heard. But that was ages ago. You want a more current position, go ask Barry."

Growing more frustrated, Will sighed and rubbed his temples. "Where is this Barry?" he asked wearily.

"Ask fer 'im down at th' docks. They'll know who yer talkin' about." Another curious grin spread across his face as he accepted the coin he was given before Will left the tavern.

"'Go to the Unfaithful Bride'," Will muttered to himself as he walked down the road. "'Oh no, it was the Midnight Ride'. 'Okay, now go to the docks'. Hmmph!!" As he stalked down the road, he glanced up and saw how far the moon had moved across the sky.

"I spent too much time in the Unfaithful Bride…" he muttered. "Wasted time."

To calm his rising temper, he stopped and took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts to Elizabeth. He discovered that this was the best way to calm himself in an irritating situation.

_I'm doing my best, Elizabeth. I make you a solemn promise. I will not stop until Jack is in Beckett's hands! I swear, I'm going to find Jack soon so I can return to home and to you. Wait for me, please…_

_\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

By the time Norrington stumbled out of the tavern, he was in higher spirits than before, and was quite willing to continue his search for Jack. Having made it a point to avoid girls while he had been in the tavern, his cheek had stopped throbbing, so he was no longer hesitant to approach women. In fact, when he spotted a pair of them sitting on the dock, he immediately headed over.

"Mr. Norrington!"

He paused when he heard his name. Peering around, he blinked when he spotted Will coming down the road towards him. "Oh, 'syou."

"How goes the search?" Will's tone was brusque and harsh; it was obvious he was irritated about something.

"Oh, great. Just great. I've found out that about half o' th' female population here will strike at the mere mention o' Jack's name."

"Ah. As useful as ever."

"Thank you. 'Scuse me." Bored already with the conversation, Norrington shoved past Will and continued up to the women, unaware that Will followed.

"Pardon me, ladies," he said politely.

The two looked up from the net they had been sewing to glare at him. "Whaddaya want?" one asked rudely. "We're kinda busy here."

"Of course, of course. I wouldn't dream of keepin' you from your work. Just one quick question. Have you any idea of Jack Sparrow's whereabouts?"

When the two looked at each other with an increasingly familiar expression, Norrington sighed and braced himself.

"On the count of three, dear sister?"

"Right. One… two… three!!!" And he was slapped by both of them at the same time, one on each cheek.

Will winced as he watched from his vantage point, clucking his tongue when Norrington turned around with his cheeks a fiery red.

"You're not having much luck, are you?" Will asked sympathetically.

Norrington glared at him, silent as Will walked past and approached the women, a bit hesitantly.

"Pardon me," he said, making sure to keep himself out of their reach.

"Ooh…" Rather than glaring at him as they had done to Norrington, one girl giggled while the other batted her eyelashes. "How can we be of service, sir?"

"Oh! Um…" Surprised by their reaction, Will marveled at his good fortune. "Could you tell me where I could find Barry?"

"Barry? He's right up there, love." One pointed up a nearby gangplank. "Just go right on up. He's probably the first person you'll come across, but if not, just ask someone."

"Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it." The two winked as he headed up the gangplank.

Norrington watched incredulously as Will walked away from them unscathed. Looking back at the women who were now staring pitilessly at him, he sighed and shuffled away, taking a consoling gulp from his rum bottle. "It's not fair…"

\/\/\/\

Will peered around as he set foot on the deck, wondering what Barry looked like. However, though the ladies had told him Barry would be the first person he'd see, he did not see a single soul. The deck was devoid of any person, save himself.

"Oi! You there! Identify yourself!"

The voice made Will jump in surprise and quickly draw his blade. "Who's there?!" he demanded, turning a slow circle with his sword held defensively.

"Here, now," the voice continued. "I don't like being threatened on my own ship. State your name and business or leave."

Since this was the only soul he had come across on the ship, Will had no other choice but to reply. "My name is William Turner and I'm searching for Barry."

"Well, Mr. Turner, I daresay you've found Barry. Look up."

Squinting into the night sky, Will focused on a dark figure outlined by stars. Judging from the shape of the outline, he discovered that Barry was, for some reason unbeknownst to him, hanging upside down, suspended by a rope tied between two masts.

"And now that you've found me," Barry continued, "What is it you want?"

"Uh…" It took Will a moment to get his mind back to his original purpose. "I'm looking for Jack Sparrow, and I was told you could be of some help."

"What about Jack Sparrow?" Barry's outline shifted slightly as he got into a more comfortable position.

"His current whereabouts. And if you don't know that, then where he was last seen."

"Ah. I can be of some help, then." The figure pointed back into the town. "At the tavern called the Misguided Wanderer, you'll find a man who spoke with Jack not too long ago. He could give you some current information. You'll find him in the pigpen. You may have to wait a few minutes for him to get thrown out, but be patient and he'll show."

"Oh, the pigpen?" It was probably a good thing Barry couldn't see Will very well, for the sarcastic disbelief etched in Will's face would have insulted him. "I thank you for all your help."

"My pleasure, Mr. Turner."

Will did his best to remain calm as he walked down the gangplank and past the two women, who waved gaily at him as he passed.

"I told Elizabeth I would find Jack…" he muttered under his breath. "I won't go back on that promise." He had to repeat this to himself several times on the way to the Misguided Wanderer's pigpen, for the idea of giving up on this increasingly fruitless quest was growing more appealing by the minute.

Perching himself on the fence surrounding the pigpen, he waited quietly, finding it odd that he was actually following Barry's instructions—instructions coming from a man who found it amusing to hang upside down from a rope. With a mirthless chuckle, he shook his head.

_Even without Jack around, I'm still being driven mad…_

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the door of the Misguided Wanderer crashed open and a raggedy sailor was tossed into the pigpen, splattering mud everywhere. For a moment he lay still, ignoring the pigs that sniffed at his head. Then he popped his head up and peered owlishly at Will.

"Can I help ye?"

Deciding to cut it short, Will replied bluntly, "Do you know where Jack Sparrow is?"

"Now? No idea. I spoke wi' him a few weeks ago—headin' fer Jamaica, I think. Ye might wanna ask th' harbormaster down at th' docks; he spoke wi' Jack right before 'e left…"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I told Elizabeth I would find Jack. I won't go back on that promise." This had become a sort of mantra for Will as he spent the night being sent from one end of Tortuga to the other. He had done everything from climbing to the roof of the abandoned church to speak with the slightly insane priest, to crawling down the main well for a chat with the soggy mayor, and yet he still had no useful information.

He was on his way to his final destination of the night: the apple tree in the main square where Black-Toothed Simon resided, Will having been sent there by the chicken-seller from down the lane.

Squinting up tiredly into the branches, Will called, "Black-Toothed Simon, I must have a word."

An apple fell and hit Will on the head as Simon rustled his way to the lower branches. "Aye? Ye want t' steal me apples, do ye?"

"No…" Will sighed, rubbing his head. He had given up being angry hours ago because it was no use, so he didn't bother to yell at Simon about the dropped apple. "I just want to know where Jack Sparrow is. And if you even think about sending me off to another man, I'll chop this tree down with you still in it." This was not said in a threatening tone, but Simon retreated back into the branches anyway.

"I-I don' know where t' find 'im, lad," he stuttered, "But I can tell yer this: Jack Sparrow can always be found in th' place ye'll least expect. Never a truer word said, mate."

"All right. Thank you."

Will slowly walked away, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging in defeat. All night. He had searched all night, and had gotten only one piece of useful information. It was indeed time for a break.

Since the sun was beginning to peek over the waves off in the distance, Will decided to find Norrington and head back to the _Lady Washington_. Going over to the docks, he found the two women once more, and both were quite pleased to see him.

"Hello, pretty-face," one said sweetly. "More questions, is it?"

"Just one," he replied, shifting a bit as the woman's sister winked at him. "You haven't seen my companion around, have you? You remember, the one you slapped?"

"Oh, him…" The other girl giggled behind her hand. "He's over there. He's certainly bully in the alley, as it were!" The two women laughed and pointed Will in the right direction.

Slightly confused, as he was unfamiliar with the term 'bully in the alley', he wandered over and spotted Norrington with Giselle again, the ever-present Scarlett hovering in the background. Apparently, Norrington had forgotten his past with Giselle, for Will saw Giselle raise her hand and smack him once more. Scarlett followed her up, and with her slap Norrington dropped to the ground.

After waiting a moment for Scarlett and Giselle to clear out, Will approached Norrington's unmoving form, grimacing slightly when he got a look at Norrington's cheek. It had been hit so many times that evening that it was swollen and raw, with four thin lines of blood from the ladies' fingernails.

"Hey," he said, crouching down next to Norrington. "Are you all right?"

Norrington slowly opened his eyes. "'Snot fair…" he mumbled, peering blearily up at Will. "Yuh…you ain' been slapped…"

Will moaned and put his head in his hands upon understanding. "I take it you haven't uncovered any information either?" he queried hopelessly.

"On wha'?"

"Hmph. I understand. Looking for Jack at the bottom of a rum bottle, eh? Some help you are."

Receiving only a groan in reply, Will shook his head and sighed. "Come along. We need to be back to the _Lady Washington_ by sunrise. Can you walk?"

"…Doubt it."

After Will tugged Norrington to his feet, they headed towards their longboat, Will being forced to hold Norrington upright along the way. As they neared the boat, Will spotted a figure leaning against a nearby post. He jostled Norrington to get his attention.

"There's a man in a dress by our boat…" he whispered in Norrington's ear. "Do you know him?"

Squinting at the man, Norrington grimaced in recognition. "Urgh… 'Sa crossdresser…" he slurred. "Asked 'im where Jack was… 'e smacked me too."

"I see." When they reached the boat, Will nodded politely at the man. "Good morning."

"Oh! …Um, good morning…" the man replied with a disgusting feminine shyness for a person of his size and stature. Adjusting his bonnet, he asked in his silly high voice, "Were you able to find anything about Jack Sparrow?"

"Hah!" Will laughed bitterly. "I only got one piece of help. 'Jack Sparrow can always be found in the place you'll least expect'. That's it!"

"Ooh, yes. When I met Jack, I found his in a place I'd lease expect—under my skirts!" Then he giggled in such a way that Will was frozen for a moment in horror. Quite eager to change the subject, he quickly turned and gestured at the longboat. "Wh-what are all those crates in there?"

"I thought you'd never ask! Those, my friend, are Tortuga Samplers, crates of the finest drinks Tortuga has to offer! There are a variety of…"

While the seller prattled on, Will turned to look at Norrington with an eyebrow raised in question.

"They're mine…" Norrington offered as an explanation.

"Of course…" Feeling more weary than ever and wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed, Will aided Norrington into the boat and shoved off, leaving the seller on the docks chattering about the Sampler.

The trip to the _Lady Washington_ was quiet, with Norrington, too drunk to sit up, leaning against a Sampler and Will too exhausted to do anything but row. By the time the sun was spreading its warmth and light over the water, the sailors of the _Lady Washington_ were loading Norrington's drinks aboard and Will and Norrington were in Mr. Mercer's cabin.

"…There's barely a trace of Jack to be found," Will informed Mr. Mercer. "I must've been sent to over a dozen people, and only ONE had any decent information, and that in itself is fairly useless."

"Well, what was it?"

"'Jack Sparrow can always be found in the place you'll least expect him'," Will recited. "This told to me by a man living in an apple tree."

"Hmm…" Mr. Mercer pursed his lips as he thought. "Any ideas as to where we could 'least expect him'?"

"Yes, I did have a few. If you have a map…"

While the two men began discussing possible locations of Jack's whereabouts, Norrington stood in the corner, swaying unsteadily as he watched them work. Squinting at the two Wills floating in his vision, he frowned in thought and shifted his gaze to the multiple Mercers on the other side of the table.

_Hmm… Will's got much better cheekbones than Mr. Mercer… Mercer's are much to high…_ "Oh, dear…"

The two Wills suddenly split into four, and the floor flipped onto its side, deciding it wanted to be the left wall of the room instead. Then the lights all chose to snuff out at the same time, plunging Norrington into darkness.

Both Will and Mr. Mercer gave a start when Norrington thudded unconscious to the ground, but Will quickly got over himself. With a derisive snort, he turned back to the map and proceeded to ignore Norrington's prone body. Mr. Mercer called two sailors in to carry Norrington back to his quarters, and then the two continued to plot their next course as though nothing had happened.

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There you have it. Chapter 4. To apologize for it being such a slow update, I made it 11 pages long, as opposed to the usual 6. I do hope you enjoyed it!

Now, for a little pirate trivia: The expression, "I'm bully in the alley," can be translated as, "I'm so drunk that I can't make it back to the ship by myself." Thus, you can see why the sewing sisters said that. :D

Review, review, review, and stay tuned for Chapter 5, in which we go back to Port Royal to visit with Jack and Elizabeth, and then watch as Norrington actually makes himself useful!


	5. Chapter 5

Happy Will Turner

Chapter 5: Hopelessness

The weather in Port Royal was absolutely magnificent, with a clear blue sky, calm waters, a warm sun, and a pleasant breeze. It was the perfect day to go ou, where for pleasure or for work. Children were playing happily in the streets while the parents watched fondly, chatting with each other. The entire mood of the town was generally light-hearted. Generally, that is.

Jack Sparrow glared at the cup of coffee that sat untouched in front of him. He was utterly miserable. For the captain of a ship to be stuck on land for over a month was a fate he would never have wanted. But here he was, sitting in the parlor of Elizabeth's mansion. He hadn't stepped out of the house since he had first dodged inside a month prior.

_Still…_ he thought, _at least the company is enjoyable._ Upon hearing light footsteps coming down the hall, he grinned. _Speak of the Devil…_

"Jack?" Elizabeth said as she stepped into the parlor, tying the string to her hat. "Ah, there you are. Is there anything need from the shops? I'm going out to town today."

"I can see that…" Jack replied morosely, trying to look as miserable as possible.

Cocking her head, Elizabeth sighed and smiled at him. "You know I can't take you with me. The guards would on you the moment you were outside the gate."

"Bugger," Jack grumbled, sitting back. "That hurts, Lizzie. That really hurts." As an idea struck him, he looked hopefully at her once again. "Could you bring back rum?"

A raised eyebrow was all she needed to make Jack slump down, defeated.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but we need to keep things as normal as possible to avoid arousing suspicion. What if a soldier spotted me wandering around with a bottle of rum sticking out of my basket?"

"Ah, buy my dear, we both know that you are no stranger to rum, eh?"

Laughing lightly, she made to leave. "Sorry, Jack. I'll see you when I get home. Bother the cook if you get hungry." With that, she left Jack to grumble alone.

However, even though she smiled at the people she passed in town, that smile faltered the further she got. It seemed to her that the only people out that day were couples, wandering down the road hand-in-hand. This reminded her only of Will's absence, and her heart panged in longing.

_Oh, Will…_ The past month had been horrible for Elizabeth. Certainly, Jack gave her some company, but he was entirely different from Will. Jack had none of Will's compassion or sweetness, nor was he any replacement for the love and affection that Will was so adept at giving.

For a month she had suffered without her husband, and what made it worse was the fact that she had no idea as to the reason behind his arrest, nor the length of time he would be gone. She didn't know if he was safe, where he was, or if there was any way of contacting him, and this made her almost sick with worry.

So now, even with the beautiful weather and the pleasant crowds in Port Royal, the full realization of Will's absence dawned on her. Without Jack to act as a distraction, all the pent-up stress and worries over will were suddenly released.

Abruptly turning on her heel and ignoring the startled shouts from the people who were standing behind her, she set out towards the building where Beckett's office lay, her pace increasing the nearer she got. By the time she made herself present in the main office she was gasping for breath.

"Please…" she said to the secretary who was staring at her with reproach. "My husband, Will Turner… Is there any mail from him? Or any news of him?"

Quite miffed by her sudden and noisy appearance, the secretary slowly checked his mail records, scanning the list for Will's name. There were several minutes of silence, with Elizabeth twisting her hands anxiously, itching to yell at the secretary to move faster.

At long last, the secretary held up a paper and read it, frowning slightly. "Hmmm…"

Starting at the sudden sound, Elizabeth said nervously, "What? What is it?"

The secretary quietly came out from behind his desk. "Your name, miss?"

"E-Elizabeth Turner."

"Please follow me, Miss Turner."

"Missus."

With only a small nod in acknowledgement, the secretary led the way up two flights of stairs to a very fancy door that Elizabeth recognized at once. "Beckett's office?"

"Please excuse me for a moment while I inform Lord Beckett of your arrival," the secretary said to her placing a slight emphasis on 'Lord' as he frowned at her before disappearing behind the doors.

However, she hardly noticed the reproach in his voice. She was too busy contemplating the reason as to why she had to be taken to see Beckett.

_Has something happened to Will?_ she thought worriedly. _Or perhaps Beckett might have some news of his whereabouts he can give me…_ However, she knew from her past dealings with Lord Beckett that such optimistic thoughts were foolish.

Fortunately, the secretary was gone for hardly a minute, giving Elizabeth little time to ponder. "Lord Beckett wishes to speak with you, Ms. Turner," he said, opening the doors.

"Missus," Elizabeth replied automatically, but she entered the office without a fuss.

Cutler Beckett did not show Elizabeth the proper respect of standing when she entered the room. He instead proceeded to ignore her presence until he finished reading the letter, and then infuriatingly pretended he hadn't noticed her come in.

"Ah, Mrs. Turner. You've come to inquire about your husband again, have you?"

"Yes," she answered. "It's been a month, but there's been no word from him."

"No, there hasn't." That simple statement had a subtle undertone, hinting there was more that Beckett wasn't saying.

Elizabeth waited impatiently for a moment for him to continue, but when he simply continued to scan the letter, she grew restless.

"You know something more," she said, her tone growing cooler as she tried to hold her temper. "Since it concerns my husband, I ask that you tell me what is going on!"

"Hmph." Beckett folded the letter neatly and placed it in a drawer before standing up to face her.

"Your husband, Mrs. Turner, was arrested several weeks ago on the fact that he did not turn a wanted pirate to the authorities. Jack Sparrow, as I'm sure you're able to guess." The look on Elizabeth's face told him as much. "Admiral Norrington was arrested with Mr. Turner for failure to capture said pirate. The punishment for such crimes is death. However, since both men are such valuable citizens—" Elizabeth noticed the slightest hesitation before he said 'valuable', "—I offered them the chance to live. I sent them on a rather difficult mission for the East India Trading Company to serve their time, if you will, rather than face the hangman's noose."

Though glad to finally having been told the details of Will's absence, Elizabeth was skeptical. "Why are you telling me this now?" she asked, glaring at him distrustfully. "Why wait a month before informing me?"

"I assumed you would care to know the details surrounding your husband's death, Mrs. Turner."

Beckett was so deadpan that Elizabeth didn't believe it at first. She simply stood staring at him, as though waiting for him to continue.

Mistaking her look as a prompting gesture, he added, "It was during a storm off the coast of South America. He was up in the crow's nest when a bolt of lightning struck, and his charred remains fell into the sea." Beckett smiled humorlessly at her. "Or so I'm told."

When his comment was greeted with silence from Elizabeth, he sniffed in annoyance and sat down behind his desk. "If you have no more questions…"

"…Dead?" Elizabeth repeated softly.

"Yes. Dead." Beckett's voice was pitiless. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business I must attend to. Good day, Widow Turner."

With a slight choking sound, Elizabeth turned and rushed out of the office, nearly knocking the secretary over in her haste. He stared after her with distaste, straightening his wig before entering the room.

"What is it, Mr. Whittaker?" Beckett asked calmly, looking for all the world as though he had not just sent a woman weeping from his office.

"Am I to assume that Mrs. Turner believed it?" Mr. Whittaker said, nodding at the letter.

"Every word. You may congratulate yourself on a job well done."

"Thank you, my lord."

Beckett stood and went to stare out the window, watching several East India Trading Company ships being loaded with cargo. "With Mrs. Turner no longer waiting around my doorstep for news of her husband, we can now fully concentrate on the capture of Jack Sparrow." He turned to look at Mr. Whittaker. "Has there been any news from Mr. Mercer?"

"Yes, my lord. A letter came in just this morning."

"And? Has there been any progress?"

"They went to Georgia as first planned, but apparently Jack Sparrow had left the _Atlantica_ before it had even reached port. So, they chose to drop in at Tortuga, hoping to gain some sort of lead on him. But as of yet, there has been no sign of him, my lord."

"Hmm…" Beckett was obviously displeased, but he kept his temper in check, turning to stare out the window once more. "I know you're out there somewhere, Jack Sparrow… And mark my words, I WILL find you…"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jack had hardly the time to get bored after Elizabeth left before he heard the front door being slammed. Though slightly surprised, he quickly rose and went to greet her.

"Now honestly, Lizzie, home already? Did you miss me that much? I –oh…" He abruptly shut his mouth when he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I…um… You must've missed me quite a bit, apparently…"

"Will's dead," Elizabeth said bluntly, cutting off Jack's rambling. "Beckett just told me." And then she broke down and sobbed, burying her face in Jack's chest and weeping.

Jack, utterly at a loss of what to do, gingerly wrapped his arms around her and remained silent, hoping she might find comfort in his simple gesture.

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The sun was shining brightly as a delightful breeze ruffled Will's hair on the deck of the _Lady Washington_ the next day. Even with the daunting task of finding Sparrow ahead of him, Will couldn't help but feel cheerful with the sky so blue and the weather so lovely. _What a wonderful day to be alive…_he thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep whiff of the salty air.

Sighing happily and opening his eyes, he decided this would be a fine time to write Elizabeth another letter. So he climbed below deck, whistling lightly as he descended the ladder. He was so light-hearted, in fact, that as he entered he and Norrington's quarters, he began to sing a song he'd heard a sailor perform the night before in one of the taverns.

"What do you do with a drunken sailor…" he sang, walking over to the window and opening it. "What do you do with a drunken sailor early in the morning? Hmm…" He paused and turned to look at Norrington, who was sleeping in the corner with an arm crooked over his eyes. "What DO you do with a drunken sailor?" he said in a normal tone.

"Oh, shut up…" Norrington groaned from his cot. "My head hurts enough without your bloody caterwauling…"

Will grinned slightly and rolled his eyes. "Still not feeling any better from last night?"

"Not at all…" Norrington's voice was slightly muffled by his arm. "What time is it?"

"Sometime in the afternoon," Will replied, going over to the window and flinging it open. "By the way, Mr. Mercer wishes to speak with you as soon as you are awake. He has some questions that he needs your expertise on."

"Oh, dear Lord…" Norrington moaned more pitifully than before. "Just…oh, dammit, just tell him I've died, and he needs to let me rest in peace."

"Of course. I'm sure he'll believe you." Turning around, Will realized that Norrington was glaring at him with one bloodshot eye from underneath his arm. "What?"

"That includes you, Mr. Turner. Let me rest in PEACE." Then he whimpered from the volume of his own voice and retreated back into the shadows that his arm cast over his eyes.

With a sigh, Will resumed his work and picked up the tune he'd been singing before. "What do you do with a drunken sailor early in the morning?" he sang softly, pulling a blank piece of parchment out of a desk drawer. Sitting down, he pulled an inkpot and quill over and thought about how to start his letter, humming all the while.

"Take 'im and shake 'im, try an' wake 'im…" he hummed, dipping the quill in the inkpot. Pausing in mid-dip, he turned in his chair to stare thoughtfully at Norrington.

"Don't even think about it," Norrington growled.

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"All right, gents," Mr. Mercer said once he'd gathered Will and Norrington on the quarterdeck. Gesturing out at the thick jungle island the _Lady Washington_ was moored at, he continued, "There lies Pelegosto Island, home to the cannibalistic Pelegostos, or so Mr. Turner says."

"Oh, a cannibal island. How nice…" Norrington muttered sullenly.

With a slight frown at Norrington, Mr. Mercer went on. "Having spoken with Mr. Turner on this matter, since he has visited this island before, he believes that only two men should go ashore to scout for Jack Sparrow."

Will nodded. "Yes. With only two people, it will be much easier to sneak up and spy on their camp. All we need to see is if Jack is their chief or not. If not, then he's not here."

"Very well. And who do you propose should be the ones to go ashore?"

"I will go, of course," Will replied. "I believe I remember where their camp is. I was hanging upside-down, though; I hope that won't be a problem…" He had to shake his head to clear it; many bad memories were being brought back from this island.

"As for the second… I'll need a man with his wits about him." He glanced over at Norrington who, even though it was still fairly early in the morning, was having a slightly difficult time standing upright. Then he looked at Mr. Mercer, who was neatly attired with his face stern, looking prepared for anything. The decision was not a difficult one to make.

"Mr. Mercer, please arm yourself with a cutlass. We'll be going ashore shortly."

Mr. Mercer, looking chagrined, nodded while Norrington chuckled mirthlessly at the man's fate.

"Have fun on your little jaunt through the jungle," he laughed, watching smugly as Will checked to make sure his blade came out of the sheath easily. "I'll be here waiting if you come back."

"Quite the contrary, Mr. Norrington," Will said sharply. "If Mr. Mercer and I don't return by dawn tomorrow, you are to arrange a search party and come after us."

The grin dropped off Norrington's face in a second. He opened his mouth to growl a reply, but Mercer's reappearance on deck cut him off. Anxious to get started, Will threw one glare back at Norrington to remind him before going over the side, with Mr. Mercer close behind.

Their journey up the beach was silent, but when they reached the edge of the trees, Will held up a hand.

"Before we go in there, you must be warned. The Pelegostos are masters of concealment. They can blend themselves into any manner of foliage. For example…" Suddenly crouching and narrowing his eyes, Will drew his sword and brandished it at a thick fern dead ahead. "There could possibly be one hiding in…THERE!!!"

He sprang forward and hacked viciously at the fern, much to Mr. Mercer's astonishment. However, once the fronds settled in the sands, it was clear that Will's violence had been unjustified, for the fern was devoid of any cannibals.

"Hmph…" Will stepped back but did not sheathe his blade. "Just keep your eyes open, Mr. Mercer."

For Mercer, their trip through the jungle was almost pleasant, but he was mildly distracted by Will's constant attacks on the surrounding flora.

"Must you insist on doing that?" Mr. Mercer asked after an hour of walking. "If there even ARE any cannibals here, which I am seriously beginning to doubt, they will easily be able to find us by following the path of mangled vegetation."

"I'm being careful," Will snapped in reply. "The last time I was here I was careless. They trapped me, shot me with a tranquilizer dart, and carried me away to be eaten." He whipped around to glare suspiciously at a tree trunk. "I'm not about to be caught off-guard again."

"Once bitten, twice shy, is it?" Mercer remarked dryly.

"Hmph." Will ignored the comment and decided to change the subject. "Once we get to a clearing we can pause for a rest. We should be safe there."

"I think there's one a few paces ahead."

Sure enough, there was a space ahead where the trees parted and sunlight streamed in. Will and Mercer reached it and sat down in the warm grass, grateful for the chance to rest.

"Do you suppose Sparrow is actually on this island?" Mercer asked conversationally.

"I doubt it," Will admitted. "He's always making sure his own skin is safe. Here would DEFINITELY not--" He abruptly stopped talking when a spear point was pushed in his face.

"Mr. Turner…" Mercer said coldly as more and more cannibals emerged from the trees, leering at their two captives. "You lied."

"How was I supposed to know this would happen?!" Will hissed as the cannibals wasted no time tying them to poles so they would be easy to carry.

"YOU were the—I beg your pardon, sir!—YOU were the one who was hacking away at all the plants we passed, convinced that one had a native waiting inside!" Mercer had been interrupted when a Pelegosto handled him a little too harshly, but that didn't keep him from yelling at Will.

"'Let's find a clearing, we should be safe there!'" Mercer shouted sarcastically as the Pelegostos began to carry them off.

"Mercer, shut UP!!!!"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Well. This is a predicament," Mercer said as he regarded he and Will's situation. They were sitting in two giant containers filled with a thin, red sauce, and placed over a low fire. It could only mean one thing.

"A predicament?!" Will cried. "Do you know what's happening to us?!"

Mercer started steadily at him. "We're tenderizing."

With a groan, Will shook his head and then regarded the bonds around his wrists and ankles. "Any ideas on how we can escape?"

"Didn't you order Mr. Norrington to come after us if we didn't return by dawn?"

It was Will's turn to stare. "Do you really expect him to remember?"

"No."

"All right then. We'll need to think of something else. What do you propose we do?"

"Hmm…" Studying the surroundings, and then their situation, Mercer considered. At last, he turned to Will and said, "We simmer."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It wasn't until early afternoon the next day when Norrington managed to rouse himself to wakefulness, groaning slightly as the effects of a hangover kicked in. Grumbling under his breath, he laboriously climbed to his feet and glanced over at Will's bed, faintly realizing that it had not been slept in. However, that was the least of his worries.

Following his usual routine, Norrington wandered into the hold for his morning rum, ignoring the sniggers of the crewmen as he passed. They often teased him of his low rank nowadays, but he was usually too drunk to care.

So, brushing past the men, he entered the hold and stumbled to the back corner where his own personal collection of liquors lay: the rum from Georgia and the fine drinks from Tortuga. Fumbling slightly from drowsiness, he picked up an empty bottle and then pulled the lid off a cask of Georgia rum. And as he peered into the barrel he realized he was now facing one of the biggest problems of his day: the rum was gone.

"Wh… why is the rum gone…?" he said softly, positively dismayed that he didn't have him morning drink. With a sigh, he remembered how freely he'd been drinking the previous day since Will and Mercer hadn't been there to send him disapproving looks every few minutes. And this is where it left him. Rumless on a morning when he needed some.

He placed the lid back on the empty cask and strode towards the galley, growing more awake as he braced himself for an upcoming argument with the ship's cook.

"Cooky, I want my rum ration early today," he barked when he entered the kitchen.

Cooky hardly glanced up from the pot of stew he was making for the crew's lunch. "No."

"Why not?!"

Rolling his eyes at how childish Norrington was acting, Cooky replied, "You don't get a rum ration at all, mate. You ain't part o' the crew."

"I beg to differ," Norrington scoffed. "I'm an important part of this voy—"

"Then you'll need a clear head to fulfill that part," Cooky interrupted. "No rum ration. Now OUT."

With a frown, Norrington crossed his arms and refused to move. "I want a rum ration," he said stubbornly.

"OUT!!!"

Failing to duck an oncoming ladle, Norrington emerged on deck with no rum and a purpling bruise over his right eye.

"My cheek barely heals before I get a new bruise…" he muttered, gingerly fingering the lump.

"Excuse me, Mr. Norrington?" A crewmember stepped up to him. "Mr. Mercer and Mr. Turner have gone missin'. Mightn't we do something?"

"…Missing?" Norrington was so miffed from the absence of rum that it took him a minute to comprehend what the sailor was saying. "Oh, Turner and Mercer. Yes, I suppose we should do something."

He thought for a moment, rubbing his newly acquired bruise while the sailor stood nearby, awaiting orders. After about a minute, he shuffled his feet impatiently, for Norrington remained silent. "Mr. Norrington…?"

The man sighed heavily. "I want some rum…" he complained. "I didn't expect to do work this early in the day without rum. Damn those two!"

Suddenly raising his voice and making the sailor jump in surprise, Norrington addressed all the crewmen on deck.

"Mr. Turner and Mr. Mercer have not returned from their jungle trek!!" he roared, causing all the men to turn and stare at him. "So, as per orders, I am to go and search for them!! Will anyone join me?!"

\/\/\/\/

"Damn Navy men…" Norrington growled as he trudged alone across the beach. "Damn Turner, damn Mercer, damn Sparrow…" His angry muttering continued as he entered the thick jungle.

Damn that cook, damn the lack of rum on that bloody ship, damn all these leaves, damn this heat…"

This rant went for several minutes. However, Norrington paused in the middle of the forest and tilted his nose up in the air, falling silent as a scent drifted towards him.

"Mm…" The smell was so delicious and enticing that he took a couple steps in the direction of the source before he stopped and thought a moment. "If someone is cooking something, then there must be people over there. Which means they might have spotted Turner and Mercer."

With that figured out, he continued on. "Who knows," he chuckled to himself. "Perhaps it's those cannibals Turner believes are here!"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Mercer, we need to get out of here," Will said earnestly. "My boots have disintegrated in this sauce, and now my toes are all pruney."

"We have greater problems than the state of your toes, Mr. Turner," Mercer growled. "We've been in here for almost a day and a half, and those Pelegostos are beginning to look hungry. Do you think they're going to wait much longer?

"No, and—"

"Wait." Mercer cut Will off and stared out at the village. "Look. Then men are heading out. They haven't even left guards to watch us. Only the women are still here."

"Hm…" Will stared as well. "I think this is our chance to escape."

"Oh really? We're bound hand and foot, Mr. Turner. What do you want to do, knock over our tubs and try and wriggle away? Those women could knock us out without even having to get up."

"I am not going to ignore this opportunity. We're getting out of here NOW."

And on the word 'now', Norrington tumbled out of the bushes right in front of Mercer and Will.

"Oh," he said. "There you are."  
Will was genuinely surprised. "You actually came?" he cried. "I thought you'd forgotten!"

Norrington scoffed at the comment. "Of course I hadn't," he bluffed. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Well then, where's the rest of your search party?" Mercer cut in.

Falling silent, Norrington glared furiously at Mercer until Will saw fit to change the subject.

"How did you manage to find us?"

"He probably followed the path of mangled vegetation…" Mercer muttered, earning a dark look from Will.

"Actually, there was an interesting scent that attracted me in this direction. Do either of you happen to know what it is?"

Mercer glared at him. "That would be us."

"No, no…" Norrington stepped closer to one of their casks. "I think it's this sauce…" Snatching a nearby spoon, he dipped it in the liquid and took a sip.

"Ah! It's… it's…" He took another spoonful. "Brandy! Gents, you've been soaking in brandy overnight!"

"That's fine, Norrington. Now get us out of here before the Pelegostos return!!" Mercer snarled, finally losing his temper.

"Hmm…" After a moment of thought, Norrington grinned impishly. "If you agree to carry this brandy back to the ship, then I shall free you and Mr. Turner."

"Norrington, this is no time to be striking bargains," Will said curtly. "If we don't get out of here soon, more than just my boots will disintegrate, and my toes will be permanently pruned."

"Damn your toes, Mr. Turner!" Mercer shouted. "Norrington, I order you to get us out of here!!"

"You're not in much of a position to be ordering people around…" Norrington said, leaning lazily against Mercer's cask. "Agree to my conditions and I'll get you out."

Mercer was just about to shout again when he choked and fell silent. Confused, Norrington glanced up from the brandy and froze, for the entire tribe of cannibals was staring at him.

For eternity, it seemed like, nobody moved. Everybody stared at the others, still and silent. Finally, Mercer hissed at Norrington, "Your SWORD! Get your SWORD!"

"What? Oh, right." Dropping the spoon into the cask, he reached for his blade, and as he did so, all the cannibals turned and ran.

The trio stared after them in shock, but Will recovered quickly.

"I guess they got scared…? Oh, never mind that! Mercer and I will carry these stupid casks back to the ship if you release us."

"What?!"

Norrington smirked. "Deal."

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Sorry about the slow update. I swear, I had to drag this chapter kicking and screaming from my brain. Oh well. Review and tell me (constructively) how sucky it was.


	6. Misleading Bait

All right, since this is so late in coming, it was an extra page longer. Thanks so much to the wonderful reviewers that make my world go 'round! Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the next addition of Happy Will Turner.

Chapter 6: Misleading Bait

It was a dark time in the Turner household back in Port Royal. News of Will's death spread through the mansion like wildfire, whispered from ear to ear of surprised maids and servants. All were shocked and quite upset by the tragedy, but the loss affected no one more than Elizabeth.

For several days she remained silent, barely eating, not speaking with anyone. She was simply empty, devoid of emotion. In fact, the first time she showed suffering was the day of Will's funeral.

The funeral took place along the coast of Port Royal, where a coffin with a few of Will's belongings tucked inside was dropped into the iron gray waves. Jack, with the aid of a telescope, was able to watch somberly as Elizabeth, clothed entirely in black, laid a rose on the water's surface as her farewell. As she walked back to the house, Jack saw her weeping quietly. Once inside, she immediately returned to her room before he could think of anything to say.

Jack himself was not entirely unaffected by Will's passing. During the funeral service that he watched from the window, he tried to amuse himself by making up his own words to the eulogy that the preacher was delivering below.

"Here lies Happy Will Turner, your former blacksmith-pirate. His fancy sword-swishing, sense of loyalty, ability to wear fancy hats, and lovely singing voice will be sorely missed." However, Jack found no pleasure in that, for it didn't feel right. He realized, with some surprise, that he felt a little sad about Will's death. The man HAD saved his life, after all. Even though he'd also tried to take it away more than once. Still, Jack felt he had to do something to pay his respects.

Facing the area where the coffin had been claimed by the sea, he said, "Here's to you, Happy Will," and he removed his hat and gave Will a little salute.

With that finished, he put his hat back on and prepared for his next task: Elizabeth. It was going to take a while, but he was determined to get her back to her usual self. _After all,_ he thought, _I've got nothing better to do!_

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After their overnight ordeal of being cooked alive, Will and Mr. Mercer wanted nothing more than a bath and a hot meal once they returned to the _Lady Washington_. Their requests were immediately granted by the sailors, who were greatly in awe of the two survivors of 'Cannibal Island'.

However, once Will and Mercer were clean, fed, and rested, they were hard at work once again. In Mercer's cabin they stood studying a map, trying to find a place to search for Jack. This was proving to be extremely difficult, seeing as how they left the island in such a rush that they had no leads at all. For this reason they pulled Norrington into the discussion as well, to add in his expertise on the subject. At first he was of some use, but Will spotted the ever-present bottle in Norrington's hand and knew his usefulness would soon fade.

"Let's go over this one more time," Mercer said tiredly, rubbing his eyes that were red from staring at a map for so long. "Mr. Norrington, you say that there are no places in the Caribbean that Sparrow frequents often, save Tortuga. Correct?"

"To my knowledge," replied Norrington after he swallowed another mouthful of the Pelegostian brandy. "There was a little island off Puerto Rico where I had him trapped for several days…"

"Refrain from telling us useless information," Mercer snapped curtly, turning his attention back to the map. "This meeting has lasted long enough without you throwing in such nonsense."

Norrington abruptly clamped his mouth shut and glared at Mercer. "Who d'you think saved your life back there?" he growled, the brandy sparking his temper.

"Who do you mean, the disgusting drunkard who bargained with our very lives in order to get his drink?" Mercer smiled humorlessly. "I don't think that man deserves my respect."

That made Norrington fall silent. Satisfied that he wouldn't be interrupted anymore, Mercer turned his attention to Will. "And you, Mr. Turner. You say our best chance is to go to a major port city?"

"Aye. Since we have no leads, we should go to a large place with many people. Surely SOMEONE will have heard of Jack recently."

"Mm. Sounds reasonable enough. It's the best we have at the moment." Mercer regarded the map. "Any suggestions as to which port we should try?"

"Hmm…" Thinking for a moment, Will tapped his finger on Cuba. "What about Havana? It's a large port and it's nearby."

Mercer frowned as he considered. "I suppose it's—"

"I see Lord Beckett has finally given you a wig," Norrington drawled, interrupting Mercer and now irritating him to no end. "Damned annoying things, wigs are. Quite itchy, you know. And they often slip. Looks bloody idiotic."

With a tick developing in his left eye, Mercer took a deep breath. "Mr. Norrington, if you insist upon cutting in ONE more—"

"The curls are irritating as well," Norrington continued loudly. "Just two big lumps on the sides of your head. I swear, I could hardly see past 'em when I had to wear one."

That was the last straw for Mercer. He gripped Norrington by the arm and all but threw him out of the cabin. "Get out," Mercer snarled after him. "And stay out until you get some intelligence knocked back into your rum-soaked head." And he slammed the door shut.

Walking back to the map table, he said calmly to Will, "Cuba, was it, Mr. Turner?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The sun had long since disappeared under the horizon when Will and Mr. Mercer finally emerged from mercer's cabin.

"You're SURE that Cuba is the best place?" Mercer asked.

"YES, I'm sure!" Will snapped in reply. "We've been over this a thousand times! Jack could be on his way to Africa by now and we wouldn't know it, so going to a large port that is frequented by sailors from around the world is our wisest choice. And that is the LAST time we're going to have this discussion. Good evening." He stomped below decks, leaving Mr. Mercer alone.

Mr. Mercer, after asking the navigator to plot a course for Havana, began to prowl around in search of Norrington. For ever since the man had made the last comment about Mercer's wig, Mercer had been pondering about Norrington's current situation. He was tired of Norrington's uselessness and inability to perform any sort of helpful task, and he was intent on making sure Norrington was well aware of it.

It only took a few minutes of searching before Mr. Mercer found Norrington sulking in the ship's hold and nursing a fresh bottle of brandy. Obviously, he was still smarting from the insults that had been dealt to him during the meeting. When Mercer entered the room, he looked up and glared daggers, gripping his bottle tighter as though he longed to throw it at Mercer's head.

"Evening, Mr. Norrington," Mercer said lightly, walking up to the man.

"Get out of here," Norrington growled. "I don't need anymore of your belittling comments."

"I didn't come in here to mock you," replied Mercer in a tone that was meant to be soothing. "Quite the contrary. I wanted to commend you on your wise decision."

Norrington didn't say anything, but his angry expression dissipated into one of confusion.

"Yes…" Mercer continued. "I am truly impressed with your gift of foresight."

"What decision?" Norrington asked grudgingly. "I'm sure there have been several choices I've made that you can make fun of. Please, do specify." Sarcasm dripped from his words.

"No, no," Mercer replied, with as much innocence a man of his profession could muster. "I'm speaking in all seriousness. Your refusal of Lord Beckett's offer was most insightful of you, and quite noble as well."

With an exhausted sigh, Norrington rubbed his face in frustration. "I can't make head or tails of what you're saying, Mercer. Explain yourself or leave."

"Lord Beckett's offer to promote you back to Admiral," Mercer said patiently. "You had the foresight not to accept. You knew that with this final demotion you would revert back into an uncouth, pathetic, drunken, worthless almost-pirate, who is a nuisance to all aboard this ship. And what with realizing all this, you also knew you would be unfit to take an authoritative role in any situation, as you proved just recently on Pelegosto Island.

Norrington was staring open-mouthed at Mr. Mercer, appalled at the man's bluntness, but Mercer went on.

"Most other men would surrender to the chance of gaining power and wealth of an admiral. But you were noble enough to turn down that chance and thus save His Majesty's Navy from yourself. So I commend you for your foresight."

With a rather transparent smile and a clap on the shoulder, Mercer left the hold, leaving Norrington in a state of mild shock.

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Two weeks later the _Lady Washington_ was docked in Havana's port, with Will and Norrington ready to disembark. They were impatiently standing on the gangplank while Mr. Mercer drilled them on their task.

"Scour this city," he told them sternly. "Any, I repeat, ANY leads you get on Jack Sparrow you need to report back here. Leave no stone unturned. I'll be keeping an ear open myself as I get the fresh supplies loaded."

"Very well. We'll be back after dark." Will, eager to be off, quickly walked down the gangplank with Norrington wandering behind at a much slower pace.

Pausing before he entered into the huge, bustling, brightly lit Spanish city, Will turned to look at Norrington. "Are you going to help this time, or are you going to go search for Jack at the bottom of a rum bottle, as per usual?" He didn't sound angry or sarcastic, but merely inquisitive.

"It's not your business, Turner," Norrington replied curtly. He had remained silent for the rest of the trip to Cuba after Mr. Mercer has insulted him so badly, so his temper was now hardly restrained. Will's comment, though said innocently enough, put Norrington's nerves on edge. "Go about your own business, and I'll go about mine."

Will raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and turned away. "All right. I'll see you back at the ship.

Norrington didn't even bother to reply. He simply stomped off into the teeming mass of people, eager to be away from Will.

For a long time he simply wandered throughout the city, relaxing for the first time in several days. The sounds accompanying a bustling port town were a relief compared to the near-silence Norrington had sat through in he and Will's quarters. The silence had allowed him to think about the painful, too-honest comments that had been dealt to him as of late, and he had often wished for some distractions to keep him from facing the truth. Havana was the perfect place to take his mind off such matters.

Deciding he wanted a meal that consisted of something besides weevily biscuits and dry salt pork, he went into the nearest tavern for dinner. It was dusk when he entered and the tavern was almost empty, but as he ate, Havana's night life started up and the place began to fill.

Norrington sat back and sighed as loud conversations started all throughout the room. The incredible din caused by the blend of Spanish, French, English, and several other ethnicities of sailors offered the relief he had been in want of. This was combined with a pleasant buzz in his head from good Cuban rum, and so he began to think that he might actually enjoy an evening for once.

As a couple hours passed, he relaxed so much that he failed to notice a familiar British Navy man enter the tavern. After getting a mug of ale from the bar, the Navy man looked around and realized that there were no empty tables. However, there were some chairs at a table that was occupied by only a scruffy-looking sailor, so he went over.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked the sailor pleasantly. "Everywhere else is full."

Norrington glanced up from his drink into the face of his former lieutenant Gillette. Shocked to see the man in a place such as Havana, he struggled to keep his surprise hidden.

"I don't care," he muttered gruffly, turning to stare had at his rum in hopes that Gillette wouldn't recognize him. He didn't want to have a former colleague seeing just how far he had fallen.

"Thanks very much." Gillette sat down a couple of chairs away from Norrington, sighing in relief as he took of his hat. "Ah, these port cities are always dreadfully hot, and these heavy coats and hats don't help much, eh?"

"The wigs don't either," Norrington mumbled before he could stop himself.

Gillette looked sharply at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-hm." Gillette fell silent for a moment, studying Norrington carefully.

"I'm terribly sorry," he after a minute or two. "I'm remiss in my manners." He held out his hand. "Commodore Gillette of His Majesty's Royal Navy."

"Mm." Norrington quickly shook Gillette's hand before occupying himself with his rum so he wouldn't have to give his own name. Gillette stared at him, waiting for him to answer, but soon realized that wasn't going to happen.

The awkward silence fell over them once more, made more uncomfortable for Norrington because Gillette kept glancing over at him. With his good mood vanished and shame of himself returning with the old acquaintance, he was just about to get up and leave when Gillette began to speak.

"You know, sir, you remind me of someone I used to work with."

Norrington froze. "D-do I?" he asked nervously, forcing a grin. "I-I don't know why you'd think that. I've never seen you before in my life."

He jumped in surprise when Gillette burst out laughing. "I didn't mean that I had ACTUALLY worked with you before!" he chuckled when he regained control over himself. "You just REMINDED me of someone. Like I would ever work with a man like YOU."

The false grin dropped off Norrington's face immediately.

"To be honest, the man I'm thinking of is pretty much the exact opposite of you," Gillette continued, unaware of Norrington's growing displeasure. "He was a model citizen, and quite the upstanding gentleman. He was well-groomed, stern but compassionate, an excellent leader of men, brave, calm during a crisis, noble…"

Norrington fervently hoped that Gillette was finished when he trailed off, but his hope went unanswered.

"Did you know that this man was going to dive off a cliff after a young woman to rescue her? I had to stop him, of course, for it was much too dangerous, but it was still quite courageous of im, don't you think?" Blinking in surprise when he spotted the look on Norrington's face, Gillette asked, "I say, man, are you all right? Your face has gone all red."

"Who… was this man…?" asked Norrington slowly, trying hard to control his temper and keep from punching Gillette in the nose.

"Admiral James Norrington," Gillette replied, smiling brightly. "And a finer man you could never meet." A silence fell as he paused to take a sip of ale. This gave Norrington time to sit motionless, his cheeks burning with shame and anger.

"So in all respects," Gillette continued after he had swallowed, "Admiral Norrington is the exact opposite of such a scruffy sailor like you."

"DAMMIT, YOU FOOL!!!" Norrington roared, leaping to his feet and making Gillette jump in surprise. Norrington drew his sword and placed the point under Gillette's chin. All the chatter in the tavern suddenly stopped as everyone stared at the two.

"You were so wrapped up in glorifying that pathetic excuse for a man," Norrington went on, his voice much quieter, "that you failed to realize I AM Norrington."

The fear and anger in Gillette's expression faded as he studied his attacker's face closely, then his eyes widened in disbelief when he realized Norrington was telling the truth.

"Admiral…?"

Norrington gave Gillette a mirthless smile. "Sorry. There's no one here who has that title."

It was then a bouncer walked up to Norrington and spoke rapidly in Spanish, pointing at the doorway. Norrington didn't understand a word he said, but his meaning was clear. Sliding his blade back in his belt, he gave Gillette one last glare before exiting the tavern.

It wasn't but a minute he had been walking when he heard Gillette shout after him, and soon the man was at his side. "What do you want?" he snapped irritably, never slowing his pace.

"Admiral, where have you been?!" Gillette cried, trying to keep up with Norrington. "You disappeared ages ago! I heard rumors, but they seemed so unlikely to be true…"

"Well, they were! I WAS demoted from the position of admiral. I WAS thrown in jail for the failure to capture Sparrow. And I WAS roped into going on an impossible mission for the East India Trading Company. Does that answer all your bloody questions?!"

"Not really, no. For example, what are you doing here?" Gillette was beginning to have some difficultly in keeping with Norrington's incredibly fast pace.

"What are YOU doing here?" Norrington growled in reply. "It's quite surprising to see a commodore of the British Navy in a place like Cuba."

"Well, it's even more surprising to see an admiral in a place like Cuba! Will you stop for a minute?!!"

The frustration in Gillette's voice caused Norrington o slow to a halt. Turning to face Gillette, he frowned when he was Gillette's confused expression. "What?" he said bitterly. "Don't like what you see?"

"Norrington… what's happened to you?"

With a wry smile, Norrington started to walk away. "I'm paying for my mistakes."

A few paces away, he paused and looked back at Gillette. "I suppose this doesn't mean much, coming from me…" he said, his tone much gentler than before, "…but congratulations for becoming a commodore." And he walked off, leaving Gillette behind.

For a long time he wandered aimlessly, frowning in contemplation. Had he really changed so much? He knew his outward appearance was the stark opposite of Admiral Norrington's, but what about the morals and values that the admiral had followed so strictly? Had he disregarded those along with his appearance?

Gillette had spoken of the day when he had been completely willing to dive off the wall after Elizabeth in hopes of saving her, risking his own life. And yet nowadays, as Mr. Mercer had so clearly pointed out, he had simply gambled with Will and Mercer's lives for his own greedy desires. Had he really turned into someone so despicable?

Blinking, he glanced up and realized that he was no longer in the noisy Havana port. Rather, he had wandered into the upper-class area of town, inhabited mostly by the rich officers of the British Navy that had been stationed there. This area was much cleaner and far quieter than the port; Norrington felt quite out of place. Still, he felt compelled to walk down the near-empty streets, if only to remind himself of what high society was like.

His feeling of discomfort grew when he noticed the sentries were glaring at him as he passed by. He nodded hesitantly at them, but received only a mistrusting look in reply. With a frown, he turned away from them, and nearly ran into a gentleman leaving the nearby building.

"Terribly sorry," Norrington muttered, averting his eyes. "I do beg your pardon."

"Now see here, man!" the gentleman barked irritably. "Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry…" Norrington glanced up, and much to his dismay, recognized the lapels on the man's uniform and realized he had bumped into a first lieutenant. He also noticed how the man was looking at him with disgust.

"Have you lost your way?" the lieutenant remarked snidely, sneering down at Norrington. "The taverns are back that-a-way."

"I'm not looking for a tavern, thank you," Norrington replied as politely as he could.

"Oh, really? Yes, I suppose not—you smell like you've just come from one." The lieutenant eyed him with an obvious look of disapproval. "Then tell me, what is your purpose here, sailor? It's not often we get your type coming in here."

"I-I was just out for a walk."

"Mm-hm. Of course. Well, I'd suggest walking right back the way you came. We'd prefer not to have this part of town sullied by the likes of YOU."

Silently, Norrington nodded and turned around, escorted back to the port by the two sentries. With his eyes down, he slowly made his way back to the docks where the _Lady Washington_ was waiting with her gangplank lowered. As he climbed up it, he spotted Mr. Mercer waiting on the deck, clearly wanting to hear from either him or Will.

"Ah, Mr. Norrington," Mr. Mercer said. "Any news of Mr. Sparrow?"

Norrington stared calmly at Mercer for a moment, his face devoid of any emotion. At last he said quietly, "You were right. I am worthless."

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It was well past midnight when Will finally returned to the ship, exhausted and frustrated from his fruitless search for information. After a slow climb up the gangplank and a silent shake of the head at Mr. Mercer, he climbed below deck and entered his quarters with a sigh of relief.

"Evening, Mr. Norrington…" he said tiredly to the still figure lying on the cot in the corner. "Any luck, or did you even make any attempt?"

"I didn't bother…" Norrington replied dully from the under the arm he had crooked over his eyes.

With another sigh, Will sat on the bed and tugged his boots off. "Well, I can't say I blame you. This city is so big that it's nigh impossible to find any information at all. Just out of curiosity, are you planning on helping at all for our stay in Havana?"

"No, Mr. Turner…" Norrington rolled onto his side so his back was facing Will. "I've been utterly useless so far; I doubt that position will change for the rest of the voyage. I may even do you all a favor and remain here in Havana while the rest of you find Sparrow. You may be able to find him with my dead weight gone…"

Will rolled his eyes. "Mr. Norrington…" he sighed disgustedly. "This little self-degrading phase you're going through had gone on quite long enough. I'm awfully tired of your moping around and your refusal to participate in the search for Jack."

"Is that so, Mr. Turner?" Norrington replied emotionlessly. "Well. Do accept my most sincere apologies."

Will frowned at Norrington. "I'm going to ignore your thinly-veiled sarcasm for a moment and speak candidly to you. You believe you are of no use on this voyage, correct?"

"That just about sums it up, yes," Norrington muttered, still facing the wall.

"Then why did Beckett ask you to come along in the first place? You were just as disgraced then as you are now."

Norrington laughed bitterly. "Why ask me? I have no insights into the inner-workings of Lord Beckett's mind."

"Because even though Jack escaped you for the second time," Will continued, pretending that Norrington had never spoken, "you were still a useful man. Having chased Jack for almost a year, you knew information that would be vital in our search for Jack. Also, you're often described as resourceful and inventive; two qualities often needed when dealing with jack."

"Then where did Mr. Sparrow get the description, 'a rum-pot deckhand what takes orders from pirates'?" Norrington countered, sitting up and facing Will with an angry expression on his face.

"He got it from your poor decisions," Will snapped back. "You were the one who chose to sail through that hurricane. You were the one who chose to resign and sail off to Tortuga. You were the one who chose to drink your guts out and then sign onto Jack's ship. THAT'S why he called you that. But all those choices were made of your own volition, Mr. Norrington. Same with all the choices you're making now. You've chosen to become useless on this voyage. Perhaps if you chose to apply yourself and actually look for Jack, you might gain more respect from Mr. Mercer and the crew."

Although Norrington didn't say anything, the thought greatly appealed to him. He was quite tired of being insulted by Mr. Mercer and ridiculed by the crew.

"And it's not only that…" Will went on, his tone growing softer. "I need your help. This place is so huge, it will take weeks to find out all we can. With two men working on it rather than one, it will go so much faster. And the sooner we find Jack…"

"…the sooner you can see Elizabeth," Norrington finished for him.

Will smiled sadly. "Yes."

With a small sigh, Norrington lay down again and turned his back to Will, falling silent so he could think. He certainly didn't believe he was of any use to anyone, but still, the way Will was making it sound, if he simply looked like he was trying to find Jack, he could reap the rewards. Respect… How he longed to be respected again.

At first as he thought, Will's plea for help mattered little to him. Why should he help Will return home to his wife when he himself had no home to return to at all? However, he recalled his conversation with Gillette, and how he had questioned the change in his morals. Now was the prime opportunity to prove that he was still a good man.

"Perhaps…" he said aloud slowly, "I could help search tomorrow. Speed things up a bit. Maybe."

He couldn't see Will's face, but the sound of gratitude was thick in Will's voice. "Thank you, Mr. Norrington."

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So, our dear Norrington is undergoing some emotional/mental stress, Will is suffering from Liz-deprivation, and Elizabeth thinks Will is dead. What a happy story, ne?

In the next chapter, Will and Norrington find a new lead, and we peek into the lives of those living at the Turner mansion. Please, read and review!

Also, a special thanks to the friend who is helping me write this. She is the one who comes up with most of the good ideas and plot points etc. for the story. I just glue them together, if you will.


	7. It's Time To Let Go

Sorry for the slow update!! I took a two week trip, so that put me behind a bit. That's also why it's so short, but I didn't want to wait much longer to update. Anyways, here it is, chapter 7. Enjoy!

Happy Will Turner

Chapter 7: It's Time to Let Go

As dusk fell and it became time to start the second leg of their search, Norrington stared out at the port city, daunted by its enormous size. Now that he was searching for one man rather than the nearest tavern, the city seemed to be far larger than the day before. He grudgingly admitted to himself that he respected Will much more for being so composed when looking upon a task so big.

"Are you ready, Mr. Norrington?" Will queried, coming up behind him.

"Not at all." With a sigh, he glanced at Will. "Where have you already searched?"

"I started in the east side of the city yesterday, and will continue my search there tonight. Why don't you take the western side?"

"Very well." Norrington took a deep breath and prepared to walk down the gangplank, but paused a moment and turned to look at Will, who was staring at him. "What is it?" he asked coldly.

"Are you ACTUALLY going to search?" Will said hesitantly. "I'm not going to do this by myself?"

"No, Mr. Turner," Norrington replied irritably. "I understand your lack of faith, but you must give a man the chance to prove himself first! Really…" With a disgusted snort, he stomped down the gangplank and headed off for the west side of town.

As he first began to search, it seemed as futile and fruitless as it had always been. He discovered that searching for one man was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And what made the search more difficult, if it was possible, was the language barrier. Norrington spoke only a smattering of Spanish besides his native English, which didn't do him much good in a city where hundreds of different tongues were spoken.

After searching three taverns and uncovering no useful information, Norrington paused long enough to restock his rum supply on the ship (something he had been greatly concerned about) before bracing himself and entering the next tavern.

It was unremarkable and hardly different from the other three taverns he had entered previously, but it did contain an entire crew of English sailors. Relieved that he wouldn't have to bring out his stuttering Spanish again, he approached the large table.

"Evening, gents," he said, lifting his rum bottle in greeting.

"Ahoy, there!" a sailor cheerily replied. "A fellow Englishman is among us, boys! Scoot over and find the man a chair."

Rather surprised by the enthusiastic greeting, Norrington sat down, regarding them all cautiously.

"We was just talkin' 'bout all this blasted Spanish bein' jabbered here," a crewmember said conversationally. "It gets to be where a man can't even order rum without gettin' all confused!"

"Indeed. Makes one long for a good British port, eh?" Norrington replied, hoping to sound light-hearted and friendly. These sailors were his last hope of finding information on Jack before he would be forced to return empty-handed to the _Lady Washington_.

"Oh, aye," a sailor with a red cap agreed. "It's been months since we've laid eyes on England."

"What is your destination?" Beginning to grow slightly frustrated with the small talk, Norrington took a gulp of rum as he tried to think of a way to turn the conversation in his favor.

"Actually, we're makin' the return trip now," the first sailor spoke up. "We were sent to Rio de Janeiro in South America. Now we're just restocking supplies before headin' home."

"An' how about you?" the sailor with the red cap asked Norrington.

"I don't have a particular destination, per se…" he answered, seeing his chance to take control of the conversation. "Rather, I'm searching for someone. A certain Jack Sparrow…" His expression darkened. "And when I catch up with him, I'm going to wring his sorry neck. Making me traipse all over the Caribbean…"

"Jack Sparrow?" the first sailor repeated. "We just saw Sparrow. Back in Rio de Janeiro."

Norrington gaped at him in surprise. "…You saw Sparrow? And you're positive it was him?"

"Aye. Hat, face, everything. That were Jack, sure as I'm sittin' here. Right, boys?" All the other crewmembers murmured in agreement.

For a moment, Norrington could hardly believe his ears. But then, a thought came to him and he slumped back in his chair. "But it's weeks from here to South America…" he moaned. "Sparrow would be long gone by the time we arrived…"

"On the contrary, mate. When we spoke with 'im, he said he was between jobs, as it were. Said he was stuck there for a while. You might just catch 'im, if ya leave right quick!"

With a cry of joy, Norrington leaped up, shouted 'thank you', and ran out the door, nearly knocking over a large man with a bushy beard who was entering the tavern.

"What the—" The man flattened himself against the doorframe as Norrington barreled by. Looking slightly disgruntled, he stomped over to the sailors who Norrington had just spoken with.

"What was in his britches?" the man growled through his beard.

"He said he was lookin' fer Jack Sparrow, cap'n," the first sailor replied. "So I told 'im we had seen Jack back in Rio, an' suddenly he's runnin' fer the door!"

"Jack Sparrow in… Why, you fools!" the captain burst out, making his crew jump in surprise. "That weren't Jack Sparrow we saw! He was a sailor by the name o' John Finch, lookin' in all respects like Jack Sparrow. Exceptin' that he don't have any o' Sparrow's golden teeth, nor his beard."

The sailor's all quieted as they thought. "Ohhh…" the first one said. "I guess he wasn't Jack after all." A sheepish expression crept over his face. "I guess we sent him on a wild goose chase, eh?"

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A blustery October wind blew Elizabeth back into her home, nearly forcing her to drop her shopping basket. Immediately Jack sprang out from behind the potted plant he'd been hiding behind, an eager look on his face. However, his hopeful grin faded away when he realized none of her shopping had spilled to the floor.

"I suppose you didn't bring any rum home this time either…" he said sadly.

"No." Elizabeth firmly shut the door and brushed past Jack on her way to the kitchen. "Nor will I ever. Rum is far too indecent for a lady to be buying."

"I don't know what you're worried about, then," Jack muttered, following her.

Elizabeth whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger. "I beg your pardon, Jack," she said coolly. "Need I remind you of who is giving you shelter from the law? I could quite easily inform Lord Beckett of your presence at my house."

Swallowing hard and looking like a wounded puppy, Jack took a step towards her. "Now really, Lizzie, would—"

"Just leave me be, Jack," she said abruptly, and then she marched into the kitchen and slammed the door shut.

Slightly miffed, Jack frowned, but he left her alone, heading back in the parlor. "I'm the one who keeps askin' for rum," he said quietly to himself, "when SHE'S the one who needs it!"

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The weeks passed slowly as autumn gradually cooled into winter. The weather was grey, cold, and overcast, going along well with the mood in the Turner household. Even Jack was slightly subdued by the gloom. This was the longest amount of time he'd spend on land in years; a torture made worse by the fact that he was stuck in the house with the widowed Elizabeth, with whom he was still unsuccessful in cheering her. The situation was quite dreary, and he realized something needed to be done about it. Thus, he went off in search of Elizabeth, intent on drawing a smile out of her.

After a few minutes, he came upon her sitting on a carved wooden chair in the day room, looking forlornly out the window. Mildly interested in what might be out there, Jack went to stand behind her so he could get the same view. He was disappointed to see only the iron-grey ocean, and wondered why Elizabeth was looking at it. However, he came to understand why after a moment's thought.

"Staring at that isn't going to bring him back," he said quietly.

Elizabeth didn't answer for a moment. Finally, she took a deep sigh and turned to face Jack. "I know. But it's the only connection I have with him."

Spotting an opportunity to lighten the mood, Jack quickly took it. "Ah. Quite the contrary, love." Stepping lightly over to a small end table, he picked up an ornamental vase as though he were showcasing it.

"Take this vase, for example," he began. "Beautiful design. Lovely colors. Real talent put into making this. I bet Will was in town one day and he saw this in the window of a shop. 'Why, Elizabeth would just love that vase!'" Jack continued in a silly high voice meant to be an imitation of Will's. "'I simply must get it for her!' he says. So you come home that evening and find this vase sitting on your table; a present from dear Happy William." He raised his eyebrows hopefully at her. "How's that for a connection, eh?"

Elizabeth looked at him, not even the shadow of a smile crossing her features. "That was a gift from my father," she informed Jack. "Will didn't even like it."

"Oh." Discouraged only for a moment, Jack quickly glanced around the room and spotted another object. "Well, surely THIS was from Happy Will," he said, pointing at a framed landscape painting on the wall. "To remind you of home, good William paints you a picturesque view of the English countryside." He turned to look at Elizabeth, patting the frame. "How can a hand-painted gift not be considered a 'connection'?" he asked, as though it were awful of her to think otherwise.

Once again, he got no change in emotion from Elizabeth. "A childhood friend from school painted that for me as a giving-away gift when I came to Port Royal," she said listlessly. "Besides, Will has—had—no skill with a brush."

"All right, then." Trying one last time, Jack gestured at the chair Elizabeth was perched upon, one of a set of four. "What about these chairs?" he queried. "William seemed to be the type of man who bought furniture. These must have been from him."

"They came with the house," was Elizabeth's reply. This earned her a glare from Jack, who looked slightly put out.

"You're not making this any easier, you know," he said in disgust.

With another little sigh, Elizabeth turned to stare out the window once more. At first Jack was quite frustrated at his lack of success in brightening the mood. However, he took control of his temper and reclaimed his place behind Elizabeth's chair, staring thoughtfully out at the ocean.

"I've had many friends before," he said, using the word 'friends' as loosely as possible. "Some dead, some maybe not dead now. Still, I don't wallow in my grief. You need to learn to compensate…" He put a hand on her shoulder. "…for your losses."

Elizabeth's response came back icily cold. "Jack, I've been a widow for but three months. Don't touch me."

Jack quickly removed his hand and backed away, though he still wasn't giving up. "My dear, three months is a very long time. I once was forced to go without rum for three months." He paused as an idea struck him.

"Rum is an excellent compensation," he said suggestively. "Do you have any rum?" Moving so that he was in her line of vision, he grinned devilishly. "If you don't burn all the rum, we may be able to pick up from where we left off on that island." He stroked his mustache as he looked at her.

Glaring, Elizabeth stood and started to leave the room. "You don't understand anything, Jack," she snapped.

"I understand you once had a man crazy about you," Jack said loudly, unmoving. Elizabeth paused in the doorway. "And yet you left him for a pirate. Why should this time be any different?"

There was a moment of silence before Elizabeth answered. "The commodore didn't die," she said softly. "But Will has. I can't move on so easily this time." And she left, leaving Jack with much to think about.

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Hopeful that his chat with Elizabeth two days prior might have changed her mood slightly, Jack sat in the foyer behind the conveniently-placed plant and watched the front door, awaiting her return. She had gone out shopping again, but Jack realized it was because she needed to get out of the house, rather than she was in need of supplies. However, Jack still hoped that she might return home one day with a bottle of rum poking out of the basket, bought special for him.

Soon enough Elizabeth returned home, shutting the door behind herself and pulling off her shawl. She spotted Jack jumping up from behind the fern, but she ignored him as she hung up her shawl and headed towards the kitchen.

"Now, Lizzie…" Jack said in a reprimanding tone. "You know what I'm going to ask. You should just tell me and get it over with!"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Elizabeth said, setting her basket on the table in the kitchen.

"Oh, please…" Jack whined, following her. "I've gone for more than three months without rum! Can you not blame me for wishing that there is the slightest possible chance of a hope that you might consider the thought of there being the possibility of you perhaps considering bringing a bottle home for me?"

Elizabeth placed both hands on the table and looked him straight in the eye. "You're not getting any rum, Jack."

"Oh." Jack brightened considerably. "Well, that's hopeful!"

Raising an eyebrow, Elizabeth shook her head. "And how do you figure that?" she asked.

"That fact that I'm not getting any means you have some for me to not get," Jack replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's much better than your usual, 'I don't have any'."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yes."

With a sigh, Elizabeth reached into her basket and pulled out a bottle of rum. "Since I'm tired of you pouncing on me as soon as I step foot in the house," she said as she handed it to him. "You'd better enjoy that; it was difficult to get that in my basket without anybody noticing."

Jack grinned broadly as he accepted it. "I don't believe there is the slightest possibility of me not enjoying it, love. Oh! Wait a moment." He quickly retrieved a glass from the cabinet, then took Elizabeth's hand and led her to the sitting room, where there was a wide window that overlooked the ocean. After pouring a glass and handing it to her, Jack raised the bottle towards the sea and cleared his throat.

"To William Turner," he said solemnly. "The world has lost a good man. Ne'er can you find a man so loyal or so loving to his lady as you were. May the wind be forever at your back." He glanced sidelong at Elizabeth, who was weeping quietly.

"Thank you, Jack," she said softly through her tears as she raised her own glass to the ocean. "To Will!"

"To Will."

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Later that evening, the two were sitting in the parlor, Elizabeth reading a book and Jack alternating between drinking rum and gazing out the window. The view was of the house next door, and he could clearly see there was a large and noisy party happening.

"Looks like fun, don't it?" he asked Elizabeth, breaking the silence.

"Mm, yes…" she replied distantly, turning a page in her book.

Frowning, Jack stood and went over to stand in front of her, his hands on his hips. "I don't believe you. You don't even know how to have fun! In fact," he continued, "I think you've forgotten what it's like to enjoy yourself, haven't you?"

Elizabeth looked up at him, a bit disgruntled from being interrupted from her book. "No," she said defensively.

"Is that so?" Jack asked her. "Let's review the facts, then. You've spent the past three months sitting in the house, wearing black, and staring into dark rooms thinking about a man dead and gone. I can't think of a thing less fun that THAT."

"I'm in mourning, Jack," she explained, going back to her book. "Having fun is not the top priority on my list at the moment." She sighed. "I still miss Will…" she said sadly under her breath.

"Whatever for?!" Jack asked, given courage from his rum. "It's pretty clear to me you don't love him anymore."

Her expression quickly changing from sad to furious, she snapped, "And just how did you get to that conclusion?!"

Faltering a little at the anger in her voice, Jack tried to explain himself. "Well, Will wanted you to be happy, didn't he? And you certainly aren't happy now." He looked meaningfully at her. "Or are you making yourself miserable?"

"Of course not!" she said, taking offense.

"No, I suppose not…" Jack replied thoughtfully. "You're not at all like Norrington."

Elizabeth was growing quite irritated with Jack. "You shouldn't say that about him."

Jack smiled as a thought came to him. "Ah, yes. I've forgotten that our dear former commodore was your first betrothed. Will was your second—who will be your third, I wonder?" He grinned suggestively at her.

"Third time's the charm, eh? After all, you've got a pattern going. You've gone from an honest sailor to a semi-honest sailor. Why not go all the way to the completely dishonest sailor—me?" He bowed to her in his most charming fashion.

As he was doing so, he heard a sound that was so foreign to his ears that he almost didn't recognize it. Looking up at Elizabeth, he saw that she was laughing, for the first time in three months.

"Ah," he said, straightening. "The face of stone cracks at last! What a joyous day this is!"

A smile still on her face, Elizabeth rose from her chair. "Thank you, Jack. I think I had forgotten how to laugh."

"Oh! Well… You're welcome. I guess I'm doing something right, then."

"Yes." She turned and headed for the door. "Good night."

"Good night, Lizzie."

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Well, there you have it. Chapter 7. I hope it wasn't too boring. I was really trying to show Elizabeth working through her grief. Please review and tell me if I succeeded!


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